Blitzen
by Koury Coving
Summary: Walter was a scientist; a good one. He loved to conduct experiments. He was also a father, adored by his two children and wife. Unfortunately, he may have conducted an experiment on his daughter… BrucexOC
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"_To Professor Kavanagh:_

_ I am aware that this is sudden, and that you might still be offended by earlier events, but I have a proposition. I have recently been unable to continue my work on an important project due to unforeseen happenings, and ask that you continue my research. I will give you the proceeds and the fame, or take the blame if it fails. If you wish me to disappear from your life, I will. If you want to reestablish our partnership, I will. But please look at the attached file before you make any decisions, I give my word it will interest your abilities._

_-Howard Stark"_

Walter pierced his lips into a thin, white line as he finished reading the email. Stark had brought loads of trouble on him before, why shouldn't he now? He'd even given the man a second chance to redeem their once brotherly friendship, but it blew up in his face and put him into an economical and scientific pit of despair. What would make this time any different?

Yet, he couldn't help but wonder what Stark would want from him after five years of avoidance. The file seemed increasingly stubborn to stay on his mind forever if he didn't read it, so what else could he do? Michelle and the kids were in bed, there was no reason he had to be secretive, for they wouldn't know…

Despite the nagging feeling that it shouldn't be done, Walter slid his mouse so that it was pointing to the blue link attaching the file that presumably had the potential to make or break his career. He hesitated for a moment, rethinking the decision, but ended up clicking on it anyway. What popped up wasn't immediately interesting, just a few articles on brain function and the electric-like signals that travel through the neural passageways to deliver messages and commands to the body. But, there were many more pages. He surfed through them, looking at the titles and dismissing most of them, but stopped when he came to a page that read: _"Modifying the Brain through Electrical Functioning."_

He hastily began skimming the contents of that page as well as the next, carefully picking out important sentences, facts, and theories. He had only gotten halfway through the third paragraph of the second page when a small knock sounded on the door. He fumbled with the mouse to minimize the file then swiveled his chair around to face the door.

"Come in," he called. The door opened to reveal his four-and-a-half year old daughter, Cienna. She had her mother's russet eyes that were full of life, with a wide, friendly smile, and brown hair that fell to her shoulders. He smiled and got out of his chair to pick her up. "What are you doing out of bed at eleven-thirty at night, hm?" he asked as he carried her towards her room.

"Brother's making that funny noise again while he's sleeping, Papa. He won't stop no matter how many times I tell him to," she responded innocently.

Walter chuckled. "Is that so? Well, how about you sleep with Mommy tonight?"

Cienna smiled and shook her head up and down rapidly.

"Thank-you, Papa," she said as she hugged his neck. Walter smiled and hugged her back as he opened the door to his and Michelle's room.

"You're welcome, Little Mouse," he replied softly. Michelle looked up from where her head was resting on the pillow as Walter slid Cienna under the covers.

"Is Casey snoring again?" she asked quietly as she pulled Cienna close to her.

"Yeah, it's really-" Cienna paused to yawn, "annoying."

Michelle smiled and stroked her daughter's hair to sooth her. Walter sat on the edge of the bed for a while, watching his wife and daughter with a small smile. Did he truly need any more than what he had now? He found himself highly doubting it as he took in Cienna's peaceful face and Michelle's motherly beauty as they lay there on the bed. He stood and sat on the other side where Michelle was stretched out on the bed. She looked up at him and smiled as he stroked his hand across her cheek. Unable to resist, he leaned in closer and planted a soft, sweet kiss on her lips. When he separated Michelle still had on her dazzling smile.

"Alright, what is it that you want?" she asked sarcastically.

Walter couldn't help but chuckle as he brushed his lips lightly on her forehead before getting up slowly. "I just wanted to say that I love you."

Michelle rolled her eyes. "Does the cheesiness ever end?" She winked before she allowed her expression to become concerned. "Are you still working?"

Walter sighed and nodded. "I just got a new job offer, it'll take a while to analyze and decide if it's worth trying."

Michelle took a deep breath before saying, "You're pushing yourself too hard, and the kids rarely ever get to see you."

"Yes, I know," Walter replied, "and I'm trying to tone it down. But if I'm right, then this job offer will provide enough money to hire someone else to do most of the work."

"I hope so," Michelle said as she looked down at her daughter and added to herself quietly," Not just for their sake but for ours…"

Walter didn't hear the last part and nodded in agreement. "I promise I won't be more than an hour."

Michelle watched with sadness as her husband closed the door softly and made his way to his office. She knew his love and care was genuine, but so was his workaholic status that required him to be greedy and to want more work. Twenty-four-seven. She sighed and rested her head on her pillow. She just hoped that what he did didn't make their relationship as a family worse than it was.

Walter, however, wasn't in the least bit worried as he went to his office and reopened the file Stark had sent him. The papers suggested that it was possible to enhance the usage of the brain with a specific concentrated amount of energy. The proposition was outrageous, but Walter couldn't help but believe every word it said. The brain used energy to function, so why wouldn't it be possible to improve the functions with more energy? Of course, that had the potential to be dangerous because too much energy at one time most often destroyed things. So all he had to do was find the right amount to give to a person, and it would be possible to create literal geniuses or possibly even psychics.

He smiled as he continued scrolling through the data. Stark had done most of the work, it wasn't really fair. But then, Stark wasn't into experiments like this, he was more of a military and artillery type of scientist. Walter wouldn't be surprised if he developed a flying suit that had some sort of amazing fire power instead of the flying car his father had been in the middle of making when he passed away. He smiled as he clicked the save button on the screen; he couldn't wait to begin his research. But first, to reply to Stark's email…

* * *

Walter walked hastily around, making sure the final preparations for the experiment were complete. He tweaked a few things here and there, but other than that, everything seemed to be ready. He turned and gently picked up a small, white mouse from its cage and placed it in the fusion chamber. Once the door was secure, he walked back to the front and buried himself in calculating the system to the precise measurements. His brows furrowed as the amount seemed to be too much, but the system hadn't had any flaws before with inanimate objects. Maybe it was just the fact that this was living instead of just material that made the power have to be on a higher level. With the last bit of programming complete, he grabbed a lever and slowly slid it from "off" to "on." Upon the fusion starting he saw a small, white mouse crawl across the floor.

He bent and picked it up in confusion, was it one of the others in the cage that escaped? His question was answered as the yelp of a young girl could be heard from the fusion chamber. He paled when he recognized who it was as he dropped the mouse and stood to look at the chamber. Inside was none other than Cienna. He ran over to her in a panic as she reached out to him.

"Cienna, how'd you get in there?!" His voice shook as he spoke and he realized he couldn't open the door or stop the process without putting her life in even greater danger. He placed his hand on the glass that separated him from his daughter and fought hard to contain the tears of sheer anger and despair that threatened to fall down. The fact that Cienna was crying out in pain didn't make it any easier. "Its okay, you're going to be okay," he reassured her, but knew that it was a lie. The experiment wasn't finished; it was very possible that her life would be forfeit.

When the fusion finally stopped he threw the door to the chamber open and gathered Cienna into his arms, too thankful that she was alive for words. He didn't know what the effects would be, but his daughter was alive, that was all that mattered.

He should have checked again before turning it on, that was standard procedure. He was so _stupid_. A sudden thought crossed his mind that could end the marriage he fought so hard to gain and keep. He pulled back and looked at Cienna who was still whimpering quietly.

"Are you okay?"

Cienna only replied with a small nod.

"Are you sure, does it hurt anymore?"

Cienna shook her head.

"That's good," he whispered with relief. "This has to be our little secret, okay? Mommy wouldn't like it if she found out."

"Would she leave you like she's been talking about, Papa?" Cienna asked, finally finding her voice. Walter's brow furrowed as he hadn't realized she'd been talking about this.

"Yes, like she's been saying," he said softly before taking Cienna to the living room. When he got her there she suddenly cried out and clenched her stomach. He set her down and tried to help her, but he was powerless. He couldn't take her to the hospital, they might find something that they wouldn't expect and that would end his career for good. It wasn't long before Cienna finally calmed down, but these outbursts continued until she had finally passed out from pain and exhaustion. Walter spent the rest of the day cuddling her and making sure that she was still breathing.

That night he shut down the experiment and deleted all of the data he had collected. The pain Cienna had been going through… None of it was worth it. And he couldn't let anyone find out about what she was now. They might call her a monster, and throw her into the Cube. He gritted his teeth. It was a dim thought, he knew, for only S.H.I.E.L.D. knew about that prison and only super villains were kept there. He had had enough with S.H.I.E.L.D. and cut all his ties to them, but the memories of being one of their top researchers were forever burned into his brain. He growled and switched on his computer to get his mind off of them. Without much other thought he opened the internet and accessed his email account to begin writing a letter to Stark.

_Dear Stark, _he began. He stared at it for a moment and replaced it with something more professional before continuing.

"_Howard S__tark:_

_ After almost eighteen months of researching the file at your request, I have come to the conclusion that it is neither safe nor humane to perform the procedures you have mentioned. I realize you might have saved an extra copy of the research you had done, and I ask that you delete it as I have deleted mine. This proposition can only hurt and damage mankind, and should not fall into the wrong hands. I ask that you forgive me, but do not contact me again with something as bold as this experiment._

_-Walter Kavanagh"_

Walter read it over a few times before finally sending it to the billionaire artillery supplier.

* * *

When Michelle came home that night, things couldn't have gone worse. Cienna had just gotten up and was playing on her brother's video game system. Michelle walked into the house and the first thing she saw was what Walter tried to explain as a power surge, but she knew better. The X-Box had caught on fire, but the T.V. that was hooked up to the same outlet was perfectly fine. Cienna had also gone into a flurry of excuses that a normal six year old should not be able to think of.

"I read your files, Walter," Michelle said through gritted teeth. "I know what the experiment was supposed to do. Enhance the brain to create geniuses and possible psychics. How could you use your own daughter as a guinea pig?"

Walter wasn't even given the chance to explain before Michelle packed hers, Cienna's, and Casey's things and left.

The divorce she filed for didn't take long, but the case for custody of the children lasted three months. Though Michelle had fought hard for total custody of both the children, the court decided to give Casey to her and Cienna to Walter. The last thing she said to Cienna when she moved out was, "Brother and I are going to be leaving for a while honey, look after your father. I love you."

Cienna nodded and pretended not to understand, but Walter could see the despair locked behind her pupils. That marked the day of the steady downfall. By age thirteen, Cienna had become a dedicated juvenile delinquent, but no one could ever find out who committed the crimes due to her inhuman abilities. When she was fourteen she had finished college with ease but ignored the chance to get a job. And when she was fifteen, Walter had lost all hope of a good life and became ill. He didn't want to live anymore, so he died from the sickness that could not be cured when Cienna was sixteen.

Her mother had been out of contact with her for years. Cienne knew that in the law it was either she live with her mother or be taken in by the foster care services. However, another thought entered her brain. She could live on her own. After all, she didn't need anyone. Her brain was the equivalent of a forty-five year old's when she was only eighteen. At age thirty-two she was traveling, looking for danger everywhere she went, and she had just made it on the big list. She was a wanted criminal, but no one knew what she looked like. For twenty years she had been invisible, but now technology was catching up with her. So was her wish that she didn't have to cope with the pain her powers brought her. She only hoped that it wasn't too late, that she could find what she needed to get rid of her powers. They were fun at first, but now she wanted to be rid of them. And she would do _anything _to ensure that this happened. Anything.

* * *

_Meh, not a very exciting chapter. This is really like a prologue. The interesting part of the story starts next chapter, I promise. :) Review please!_

_-KC_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Cienna's eyes flew open as she was awakened from her slumber. She glanced at the clock on the dresser beside her bed; it was 1:32 AM. Immediately she knew something was wrong; she didn't wake up so early in the morning for no reason. She closed her eyes and found that she could feel the static in the air shifting ever so slightly, the sign that someone was awake and moving. It wasn't normal moving, it was brisk, and she could tell there was more than one person. This wasn't a coincidence.

After a moment of rechecking the area around her quietly, she decided that there had to have been somewhere around five officers infiltrating the apartment building, and another ten on the ground, pointing their guns at her window. She sighed, but got up and hastily grabbed her things, all the while trying to avoid moving across the window. She didn't want to alert the officers outside. It didn't take long; she only had her iPhone, glasses, and a small amount of cash and hygiene items that she threw into a black Jansport backpack. With her hectic life, that's all she could bring around with her.

She waited another moment to double check that she had calculated the right amount of officers, and when she was satisfied she crept quickly to the door. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, channeling energy throughout her body. When she re-opened her eyes they had changed from their normal brown color to a navy blue with small hints of yellow running through the iris. Well, when she said normal, she meant normal for _this _form. The way she truly looked wasn't anything like this.

After the brief moment of concentration she placed her hand on the wall next to her door and sent a pulse of electricity through the wires running underneath, causing all of the lights in her room to flicker on and off violently and then finally burst to send sparks into the air. The smoke alarm immediately started blaring its shrill chord into the night and woke everyone in the building.

Cienna hoped that the officers were far enough away to get caught in a sea of stampeding people as they tried to escape the "fire." She stayed where she was by the door until she felt the first large wave of people passing outside. She then opened her door and pushed herself into the middle of the crowd to stay hidden. It took ten minutes to get from the third to the first floor where mobs of citizens were pushing past each other to get out before the alleged fire could get them. Cienna was able to avoid the officers inside easily, as there weren't many of them and the ocean of people in the lobby was impenetrably thick, but she was unsure how she would pass the ten that were waiting outside. She took a deep breath and calmed herself, causing her eyes to return to normal. She began walking quickly with scared, wide eyes to give the impression that she was just a young teenager trying not to get hurt, though in fact she was thirty-two. She was tall for a teen, but her body and facial features had a childish look to them, a result of her powers, making it easy to be mistaken as a runaway- or lost- girl.

Once she made it outside, she tried her best to move with the crowd while avoiding the officers that were combing through the people to try and find her. It didn't prove too difficult, and she even made it to the edges of the crowd, almost close enough to escape through a narrow alleyway, but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. She spun around with surprise and found herself staring into the face of a middle-aged policeman.

"I-I'm sorry, is something wrong, officer?" she asked innocently as she looked up with round eyes. The officer seemed disheveled by this and released his grip with a small smile.

"Pardon, I thought you were someone else. You should try to find your family quickly; this is getting pretty crazy out here."

Cienna wiped the bewilderment off her face and replaced it with a smile as she gave the policeman a small nod.

"I will do that, thank you."

The officer tilted his hat to her and turned around to continue his search. She waited a few moments, her heart still fluttering from the encounter, before she navigated her way through the rest of the crowd and to the alleyway she had originally been aiming for. After a quick glace over her shoulders to make sure no one was following her, she made her way hastily down the alley and onto a deserted side street. With only a moment's contemplation, she decided to continue using the alley ways to make sure she couldn't be seen, but could easily escape if she was. She had only gotten halfway down the second alley when she heard the sound of fuel being burned in a similar way as a jet pack and a small clang of metal hitting concrete.

"Well, I didn't expect I'd be able to find you so easy, but leaving that crowd was a pretty big mistake on your part."

Cienna whirled around to see a man in a red and gold suit of armor standing behind her. Automatically going into survival mode, she put on a surprised face and gasped.

"No way. Are you… Ironman? I've heard stories and seen you on TV, but I never thought I'd be able to see you in person! Were you looking for someone?"

The mask of the suit folded into itself to reveal the face of Tony Stark, one of the richest men in the country, maybe even world. He shook his head with a disbelieving look.

"That isn't going to work with me, Blitzen, I've been able to track you with that nifty little phone you have in your pocket."

Cienna set her jaw and glared at him for a moment, but sighed and dropped her act. After another moment an amused smile crept onto her face.

"Blitzen," she said with disbelief, "that's what they're calling me? I've been named after a reindeer. What's next—one of the Power Puff Girls?"

"Sure, if you want, I'll call you Blossom. Or how about Buttercup?" Tony replied with a humored smile. The smile faded from Cienna's own lips and was replaced with a slight scowl.

"Alright, cut to the chase," she demanded. "What is it that you want with me?"

"I think you know the answer to that, Buttercup," Ironman said as he started walking towards her, "I'm here to take you in for all the things you have stolen recently, and also all of the electrical systems you have been able to magically destroy. Which, by the way, isn't very original. You could at least cause an explosion or something, make it more interesting." He stopped in front of her and gave her a large, sardonic smile. It ticked her off.

Cienna smiled back sarcastically. "Are you sure? I was under the impression you don't like to follow orders, and I do believe you were told to do this, no?" She took out the iPhone and held it out. "Take it and return it; I no longer have any use for it."

Tony gave her a puzzled look but took the phone from her hand and placed it in a compartment in his suit. "I don't. I just wanted to see who you were, since you're sort of climbing to the top of the "Most Wanted" list. You know, super hero stuff that people like me have to take care of. Wouldn't be my problem if you weren't suspected of having powers."

"Is that so?" she smiled and began slowly backing away from Tony. "Well, that's too bad for you because I have to be going."

Tony had been watching her with careful eyes and when she got to the corner he took a step forward with his hand raised.

"Not another step," he warned. She scoffed and quickly swiveled around the corner of the alleyway.

"Hey," he called to Cienna as his mask slid back over his face and he flew swiftly to the bend in the road. When he got there, Cienna was nowhere in sight. He was about to start tracking the signal of the phone again when he realized she no longer had it, but rather it was in his own suit. He huffed and shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe I fell for that." After he combed the street before him with his eyes and found nothing, he placed his hands at his sides and made his way back to his skyscraper.

Cienna watched through narrowed eyes from the electrical tower she had chosen to hide in as Ironman flew over her head. This was just great, the last thing she needed was to be pursued by one of the members of the famous Avengers. She would likely get caught and be unable to continue her search for the cure. After all, she was considered to be a super-villain and would be thrown behind bars immediately, most likely without a trial. She could only hope that Tony lived up to his own reputation to, on some off-chance scale, prove that she wasn't evil. She was just trying to survive as she traveled. Just as she had always survived, the moment her mother abandoned her.

Her mother had already taken her brother with her when she divorced her father a few days before Cienna's sixth birthday, leaving her in the care of her father. And when he passed away, she was automatically on the list for foster children. Somehow she escaped and avoided them for the two years she needed to become an adult, in the process creating a nameless identity for herself. Only recently had people started calling her Blitzen.

Though it was a long shot, she desperately needed Tony Stark on her side if she had any hope of completing her goal. And maybe, just maybe, she could find the cure she was looking for.

Cienna took a deep breath, allowing her eyes to once again change color as she jumped off the tower and held her hands to her sides like Ironman when he flew. Though she always felt like she was copying him, she had no other way to hold herself as she manipulated the electrical currents in the air to suspend herself above the ground. A ball of electricity formed in either of her hands and she propelled herself forward. Though she had no idea where she was going, she figured she would end up in a place that she could use for her new hideout. She flew through the city, winding in between tall buildings for fifteen minutes, searching for a suitable place to stay. It wasn't much longer after that before her breathing started to become heavy.

She had used her powers too much earlier to escape; she should have saved her stamina for the more important part of escaping: finding another place to hole up in. She couldn't stop, though; she needed a good, hidden place to spend the night. She didn't have much money left from the job she had been working on recently, so the place had to be inexpensive. The area of the city she was in at the moment wasn't too bad, but was still too expensive for her to stay at for an extended amount of time if she needed to.

Her thoughts immediately stopped when her vision started blurring and she began losing altitude and speed. Still being stubborn, she kept going, but soon her powers stopped working altogether. She crashed the last ten feet to the ground and skidded across the floor before halting painfully. She coughed a few times and tried to push herself back up, but collapsed in the process. She gritted her teeth as her vision blurred in and out of focus before she finally blacked out, her head falling limp onto the sidewalk.

* * *

_Just a warning, this is the only time I will post twice in a day... aside from special occasions. I finished the chapter and figured, why not? You can expect a chapter(maybe two) a week from here on out. :) Please review~  
_

_-KC_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Bruce Banner walked over to the window above his kitchen counter and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. He had been working since five yesterday morning and it was already 2 AM. It had been almost twenty-four hours since he last slept and he was feeling the exhaustion tugging at his heels. He reached forward and twisted the handle of the sink and cold water started spewing out of the faucet. He quickly rolled up the sleeves of his button-up shirt and splashed the water onto his face; he couldn't fall asleep now, he still had important work to be done. Not only that, but there was still the risk of S.H.I.E.L.D finding him here in the city and it always kept him on edge. He knew he shouldn't be here, with the stress of all of the bustling people and vehicles, but the one person he needed to help him would be here, in New York. He couldn't just leave.

He turned off the running water a moment later and as he dried his face with a towel a flicker on the edge of his vision caught his attention. He looked through the window in just enough time to see a young girl with black-framed glasses and brown hair tied back into a ponytail fall from the sky and skid across the ground.

Doctor mode flipping on, Banner quickly grabbed his first aid kit and ran outside. The girl tried to get up, but collapsed, and by the time he got to her she was knocked out cold. He kneeled down next to her and carefully rolled her on her back to check her pulse and make sure she didn't have any serious injuries. Though her jeans and black denim jacket had holes torn in them, her shirt was covered in dirt, and her hands were cut up, she didn't appear to have any fatal damage.

When Banner was satisfied that he could move the girl without hurting her further, he gently placed one arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees and carried her into his apartment. Thankfully he was used to getting patients at any hour of the day, so he always had a spare bed ready in his cramped living room instead of a couch. First he placed her in a sitting position and held her up as he slipped the backpack she had off of her shoulders. He then laid her softly on the bed and slid her jacket off, as well as removing her glasses. He folded them neatly on the wooden bedside table that he rarely used for anything and then released the white laces of her black Converse from their knots and placed the shoes on the floor.

Once Banner was sure she was comfortable, he began cleaning and disinfecting the cuts she had obtained from sliding across the concrete. As he was gently dabbing the wound on her right hand he noticed that her wrist seemed to be moving unnaturally stiffly. He frowned and put a small amount of pressure in several different points until he heard a small whimper from the girl as he pressed just below her palm. While it wasn't swollen yet, he could tell it was sprained and needed to be supported to heal.

Banner reached into the first aid kit and pulled out some gauze. As he began wrapping the girl's wrist her breathing became sufficiently heavier. He supposed it was because of the sudden pressure, but even as he finished her breathing continued to escalate, and droplets of sweat formed on her forehead. He reached forward and pushed her side bangs away so he could check her temperature. She was dangerously warm which suggested a possible cold, but she had been fine when he had brought her inside. Just the same, he tasked himself with getting a bowl of cool water and a cloth. He soaked the cloth and placed it on her forehead, then grabbed the blanket that was lying at the foot of the bed. He pulled it up so that it was covering her shoulders and sat back down to make sure she didn't get any worse.

After a few hours of continuously changing out the cloth and checking her pulse to make sure it didn't skyrocket, Banner looked at the clock; it was already six. He sighed and stretched before getting up to take a quick shower. He hoped the girl didn't wake up and leave while he was in there, as some people tended to do. He huffed as he grabbed a change of clothes. He supposed it didn't really matter, it would just mean less work that he had to do. Then again, she could possibly hurt herself further if she left, that was some pretty nasty fall and he was curious as to how she did it as well as why she didn't have any broken bones. He didn't see where she started falling from, but the fall had to have been at least eight feet.

A few minutes later he left his bedroom and entered the small bathroom across from it. He switched the showerhead on, even just the heat radiating from the water felt amazing. Oh, how he needed it. His shoulders were tense from staying up all night, and he was practically falling asleep while he was standing. As he stepped in the shower he slowly relaxed in the warmth and began to think about the one thing he had been trying to avoid for the past few weeks: S.H.I.E.L.D. and their pesky agents tormenting him all the time… He just hoped one of them wouldn't come while the girl was here, the last thing she needed was to be brought into unnecessary trouble.

He groaned and splashed water on his face. Why must things be so complicated? Sometimes he wished that this would all just go away, like a bad dream, and he would wake up one morning, young, fit, and without the other guy'spresence always shadowing him. But, he highly doubted that would ever happen. This was all too real to be a dream.

Not wanting to think on it further, he quickly finished his shower and began to dry off. He slipped on his brown slacks and purple button-up shirt with haste; he needed to get back to work, and quick. But first, to check on his guest…

* * *

Cienna slowly opened her eyes, expecting to find herself cold and crumpled on the concrete of a deserted alleyway. Instead, she was enclosed in a warm blanket and stretched out on a soft bed. She took a sharp breath in and sat up quickly, afraid for a second that she had been caught by the police or Ironman. When the wet cloth on her forehead fell into her lap, however, she realized that was an irrational assumption. If she were caught she would have neither a comfortable bed nor any medical assistance. She instinctively looked to the right side of the bed and reached for her glasses. Once they were on, the shapes and designs of the room came into focus.

The sight of the small room was foreign to her. She was used to fairly neat and spacious living quarters, but this one was cramped with various articles of clothing, dishes, and bottles strewn about the worn furniture and cracked tile floor. It sort of reminded her of how the house looked when her mother had left for a trip and couldn't clean up after her father or brother. As Cienna picked up the cloth from her lap and moved it to the bedside table she heard the sound of shuffling feet. She looked up to see a man around forty years of age with dark brown, wavy hair that fell just above his ears. He wore rectangular glasses with rounded edges, a long sleeved, purple button-up shirt, and tan slacks. His hair was damp as if he had just come out of the shower, which he probably did, and he had a look of quiet strength about him.

"Oh, you're awake," he said with a smile as he saw her sitting up. His voice wasn't too deep, and it sounded a little shifty, reminding Cienna of a lost child trying to guard itself from a threatening presence. "Are you feeling okay?" he asked.

Instead of answering the question Cienna replied with a blunt, "Who are you and where am I?"

The man gave a diminutive laugh and walked over to the mini kitchen that was connected to the small living room. "Not much one for small talk, are you?" There was a loud clanging sound as he took out a cast-iron pan and placed it on the stove.

"I believe I asked you a question," Cienna said impatiently when the noise subsided.

"And so did I." The man met her eyes pointedly. Cienna held his gaze for a few moments, just long enough for her to notice that his eyes were dark but friendly, and that they seemed to captivate her. Almost immediately she turned away, not wanting to allow herself to decipher exactly what she felt when she looked at him.

"I'm fine," she mumbled.

"Good," the man said as he opened his refrigerator and inspected the contents. "Now I can answer your question."

But instead of answering he pulled out a chunk of ground beef and set it next to the stove which he turned on afterward. He opened a cupboard and pulled out two plates, setting them on the counter. Then he opened the package of meat and cut it in half, placing one half on one plate and the other back in the package. Once he had put away the excess meat he faced towards Cienna and leaned on the counter with his arms folded across his chest.

"My name is Bruce Banner, and you are currently located in my one story apartment that was built in between the richest part of New York and the slums."

Bruce Banner… for some reason that name seemed familiar. Cienna contemplated this for a moment before asking, "Are there any police stations around?"

Bruce cocked an eyebrow and a half-smile formed on his lips. "There some reason you're looking out for those?"

Cienna stared him down without falter and replied, "Just answer the question."

"There are a couple a few miles away, not any different from the other parts of the city," he informed her with a shrug before he turned to tear a ball of meat from the half he had out and pounded it into a patty. When he had three less than perfect patties cooking he opened a drawer and pulled out a spatula. He flipped the patties in a silence that seemed too heavy to break to Cienna, so she busied herself with testing out her right wrist. It was a little stiff, but didn't cause any pain. She unwrapped the gauze and looked up at Banner.

"Where would you like this?" she asked. Banner stopped flipping the patties for a moment to look at her.

Again, he quirked his eyebrow and smiled. "Generally when someone bandages a wound they're supposed to keep it bandaged until it's healed."

Cienna sniffed and twisted her wrist around to show him that it was fine. "Thanks for the notion, but I'm no longer injured."

Bruce continued flipping the patties as he replied with a bright laugh in his eyes. "So what you're saying is that you somehow managed to heal you sprained wrist in a matter of a few hours? Forgive me if I find that a little out of the ordinary."

"Believe what you like," Cienna huffed as she tossed the gauze to where she had placed the wet cloth earlier. Banner looked at her suspiciously before finally walking over to her and taking her wrist as he knelt down on the floor to be level with her.

"Hey," Cienna protested and tried to pull her hand back. Banner, however, kept a firm, but gentle, grip.

"Relax," he said as he prodded the bone that was formerly sprained with a thumb, "I'm just checking it."

Cienna scowled and looked away, but did not try to rebel further. She knew he wouldn't find anything, anyway. When Banner was satisfied he let go and stood.

"You happy?" Cienna snapped. She looked up at him with irritation but his smile never faded.

"Not really. You fell from quite a height and yet you've only sustained minor scratches and bruises. As well as a sprained wrist that healed within only a few hours." He folded his arms looked at her quizzically. She obviously wasn't just some random girl that fell off the roof, but he knew of no one other than Thor, and the other guy, who could heal like she did.

"Well, I guess I'm just lucky," Cienna growled and folded her arms with a huff as she looked away. Banner couldn't help but observe the almost unnoticeable grimace she gave when he had began to accuse her of such feats.

"Clearly," Banner said with a small shake of his head. He turned on his heel and walked to the near-burnt beef patties. He quickly turned the fuel off with a quiet curse and turned to the fridge. He took three hamburger buns from it and placed the patties on them. "Ketchup, mustard, lettuce? What do you want?" he asked as he himself began scanning the contents of the shelves.

Cienna looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Hamburgers for breakfast? Really?"

"Hey, if you don't want it, then feel free to leave," he retorted with a glance over his shoulder at her.

Cienna rolled her eyes and threw the blanket off of her. "Ketchup is just fine."

Banner nodded, grabbed the bottle and placed it on a small two person table. Cienna walked over to the table and was surprised to see that there wasn't anything cluttering it… though it looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a while. Banner handed her a plate with a hamburger on it before he turned around and grabbed several things from the fridge. Cienna sat down and poured a generous amount of ketchup on her burger before taking a bite. She hadn't had anything homemade in ages. While it wasn't the best, due to the somewhat blackened surface, it was much better than what she usually sustained herself with. As she took her second bite, Banner placed all he had grabbed on the table and sat down. Cienna stared at the various condiments and toppings: mayonnaise, lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, Thousand Island sauce, cheese, and a few things she couldn't even recognize. Without realizing it, she continued to stare as Banner heaped his hamburgers with the toppings and took his first bite. He looked up and raised an eyebrow as he caught Cienna staring. She merely blinked and looked away quickly.

"Sorry, I just didn't think you'd actually eat that." She turned her eyes down to her own burger that seemed so much plainer and took a third bite.

He swallowed and licked away some of the sauce that had gotten on the corner of his mouth. "There would be no point to me getting all of this out and putting it on the burger if I wasn't going to eat it, would there?"

Cienna paused as she was about to take another bite and eyed him. He seemed to shake off all of her retorts so easily, as if he didn't want any of his emotions to be let out or something. Or, maybe he was genuinely kind. Either way, there was something about him that made Cienna's emotional walls begin to crack. After another moment of contemplation, she finally sighed.

"Cienna Kavanagh."

Banner tilted his head to the side a bit just before he sank his teeth into another messy bite of burger. "What?" he mumbled around his food.

"My name," she replied briskly, "is Cienna Kavanagh."

Bruce nodded slowly, his eyes seeming to search her face for something. Cienna looked down at her burger so that her own eyes wouldn't betray her to the nervousness she felt as he stared at her. She once again began eating so that the awkwardness of the moment didn't persist.

"Kavanagh," he finally said, "as in Walter Kavanagh?"

Cienna looked up with surprise and swallowed her bite. "You knew Walter?" she asked with astonishment. Bruce nodded and smiled.

"He's an old friend, of sorts."

Cienna blinked and looked away. Great, just great. If he knew Walter then he knew her and what she had gone through; she did not need any more disgusting sympathy or petty questions about his research. She _didn't know. _No one seemed to understand this concept.

Instead of trying to keep the conversation going she hurriedly shoved the last few bites of her burger down her throat. When she was done she pushed herself to her feet and walked over to the bed she had been on, all the while aware of a pair of eyes following her. She ignored the prickling sensation on the back of her neck that she got from the scrutiny and shoved her feet into her Converse. Her fingers fumbled a bit as she tied the laces, but she continued without hesitance. Once that was done she grabbed her jacket and slid it onto her shoulders.

"You're leaving?" Banner asked finally. Cienna simply nodded and began to walk to the door.

"Without even a thank you?" Banner frowned with heavy sarcasm, "I guess being a Good Samaritan isn't all its cracked up to be anymore."

Cienna sniffed and replied dryly, "Thanks." Though it didn't sound like she meant it, she was grateful he had found her. Minutely.

Without pause she stepped out of the door, leaving Banner with her dishes. He sighed and shook his head, coming to the conclusion that Cienna was most definitely like her father. It was almost uncanny. Except, she didn't look a thing like him or Michelle, and from what he remembered when he met her some twenty years prior to this, she was almost a clone of Michelle. Was that really Cienna?

Bruce sighed and shook his head as he finished his own food. He began to clear the table, but stopped as his eyes accidentally wandered over the black Jansport backpack that lay on the floor next to the bed. It seemed Cienna had forgotten it in her hurry, and since she would surely want it back, he would be seeing her again. He smiled: good. He still needed to ask her about some things and as far as he knew she was the only one who could help him. She lived with her father for years, maybe she knew the information he was seeking. He had tried to contact Michelle, but it seemed that she and Casey didn't want to be found. And Walter… well, he was Walter. Never responded to any emails and had since changed his number.

Whatever happened, he wanted out of this stinking city. There were at least two occasions that he almost snapped and he arrived a mere week and a half ago; he couldn't take it much longer. He just hoped that Cienna lived up to his expectations or he'd have come all this way for nothing, and the promise he kept to Walter would be impossible to keep.

* * *

_And the plot thickens. O.o Sort of. Lol, still not very much action. Still need to do some character introducing. Hopefully I don't bore you to death. :3 Please review!  
_

_-KC_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Tony Stark landed on the small platform outside the top floor of his sky scraper and walked forward, the machine installed into the floor taking off each piece of his armor with every step.

"Jarvis," he called to his AI as he marched inside, "get me everything you can find on the modern day criminal known as Blitzen."

"_Right away, Sir," _the computer automated voice replied. Tony walked over to the bar installed in the room and poured himself a glass of scotch before walking to the neighboring room and sitting on the black leather couch that stretched through the center. In front of the couch was a large glass computer screen that Jarvis had turned on and pulled his search results up on. Stark skimmed a few titles and paragraphs before he came to the headline for a recent newspaper. It read, "Blitzen, a Lab Experiment Gone Wrong?"

Stark tilted his head, a little perturbed. If there turned out to be substantial evidence of this, there was no way he was going to let whoever did that get away with it. He flicked his wrist toward himself so that the results jumped off the screen and came close enough for him to tap the link. When it popped up he began reading the contents with great interest.

As it turned out there wasn't much evidence other than a photo of Blitzen and a photo of a young teenager who happened to be a Walter Kavanagh's daughter… Walter?!

Tony lurched forward and nearly sprayed his scotch across the room. The media thought that _Walter _had something to do with this? The man who didn't even have the guts to do full experiments on mice? Tony swallowed his drink and took a closer look at the picture of Blitzen and Cienna.

They weren't in the slightest bit close! But, people did change a lot with the help of certain procedures... If Blitzen was actually Cienna, then that would mean Walter had lied to his father and wanted to keep the results of the experiment to himself. But, Walter wasn't the selfish vengeful type! The thought was next to crazy! Then again, crazy was somewhat normal in his life. If Bruce managed to do it to himself then it was entirely possible that Walter could have experimented on his daughter.

If Tony remembered right, Cienna had been around six when Walter had e-mailed his father to say that the research could not be completed and that he should delete it. Really, he was such a nosy kid at only fifteen. He read practically everything of Howard's if it was interesting enough.

Instead of deleting it, Howard had put the research in an encrypted file that had next to zero percent chance of being hacked into. So if Tony could match Blitzen's and Cienna's life together, as well as Blitzen's powers and the research, then he could confirm Walter had used his own daughter for this experiment. An instance that hardly seemed like something he would do.

"Jarvis, pull up all you can find on Cienna Kavanagh," he ordered the AI after his brainstorming. There was a pause as Jarvis pulled up the internet pages.

"_Here you are, Sir," _Jarvis said. What Tony read only confirmed his suspicions further. Cienna had a pretty normal life with average grades when she was young, but had a spike in learning just after she turned six. Also at that time her parents were going through a divorce, making it seem even less likely that she would get such good grades. After that she seemed fully dedicated to school and graduated college at the whopping age of only fourteen, something that should not be possible for a normal human. Other than himself, of course. This feat caused the media to be all over her, but apparently they were never able to find her for an interview. Okay, even _he_ had troubles hiding from the press if he did something that he didn't want to talk about, which rarely happened. But for Cienna to avoid them her whole life? That was something on a wholly different scale.

After contemplating this for a while he turned his attention back to Cienna's supposed alter-ego. Aoarently Blitzen's first appearance was around the time Cienna graduated, though the criminal hadn't been named or talked about much. Someone as smart as Cienna wouldn't find mental occupations very interesting, and she apparently never obtained a job. Could she have decided to become a criminal to keep herself interested in life?

A mere two years after finishing her degree in psychology, Cienna's father had passed away from a sickness derived from depression. Tony frowned, he had no idea Walter had died so many years ago. This event seemed to trigger a spike in Blitzen's activities for a little before she fell into hiding.

Tony flipped the pages on Cienna aside and pulled up various crime scenes that Blitzen had caused. Though there wasn't anything serious, there always seemed to be some sort of power surge or blackout conveniently in that one spot. Everything in the papers suggested that she wanted to harm people, but he hadn't detected any particular hatred coming from her as they spoke earlier. And then, she gave him back the iPhone she stole, of all things.

The last thing he observed was that Cienna had avoided foster care for two years until she was legally an adult and then, though the police had always been on her tail before, she completely dropped off the grid. Blitzen did the same. At the same time.

Stark stared at the screen as all the evidence fell into place. Blitzen was Walter's daughter Cienna, and she got her powers from when her father had experimented on her. He had given her not only superior intelligence, but also powers. Those powers, however, did not fully reflect what Stark had envisioned. If he recalled correctly the research had proposed that a human would develop psychic-like abilities, but the only thing Cienna seemed to be able to do was cause black outs and avoid unwanted attention. As of now Tony could guess at least twenty different powers that could do something to that extent.

"_Sir_," Jarvis said, shaking Stark from his thoughts. "_It is four o'clock; you have a meeting at nine._"

Despite his trust in Jarvis, Tony turned to look at the clock. Indeed, it was four.

"Haven't I told you that sleeping is a waste of time?" he asked the AI.

"_I believe you have, Sir, but Pepper told me to make sure you got some sleep tonight. You've been awake for days on end_," Jarvis answered. Stark glared up at the ceiling but obliged and walked to his room. After changing he slid under the covers of the bed with an annoyed grunt. He hated sleeping; he should be working on… something, anything. Just not sleeping.

"Jarvis, put everything you pulled up in a file marked 'Cienna'…And set the alarm for eight," Stark ordered with unexpected weariness.

There was a slight pause before Jarvis answered. "_The file is created and the alarm is set. Good night, Sir_."

Tony didn't reply as he had already closed his eyes and felt sleep gripping him immediately. He was not looking forward to the meeting he had in just a few hours. On the bright side, though, Pepper would be with him. He smiled slightly at the thought of seeing her again before finally succumbing to his exhaustion.

* * *

Natasha's heels clicked sharply on the floor as she sped away from the meeting with Clint and Director Fury. She had hoped that the mission she went on _didn't _include arrogant, egotistical billionaires, but apparently that's all she would ever get because she had already worked with one. This job would have been easy enough for her to complete on her own but Tony, being Tony, had begun to look into this Blitzen character before they did. So now, since he already had information on the criminal, she would have to work with him to catch and apprehend the criminal. The job would go much, _much _smoother without Tony getting in the way.

For one, he had no way of filtering his movements. All it was for him was confront, shoot, and destroy most of everything in his path. Catching a hiding super was definitely not his strong suit. Also, his attitude altogether was impossible to cope with. Sooner, rather than later, Tony would do something immensely dense on his own without telling her or Clint what he was planning, and he would blow the whole thing up. It happened last time she tried working with him. How could Fury expect her to keep a leash on someone like that?

Just before she rounded a corner she heard quick, heavy footsteps pursuing her and a deep voice calling out to her. She ignored it and kept walking. Normally she didn't get like this: whining over such a simple matter, but… she highly doubted Tony would be able to contribute to a spy's mission. He was a flashy, hot-headed, show-off of a child with a lot of gun power that was good for blowing things up, not sizing things up. And that was what they were being sent to do. They needed to decide who Blitzen was, how she got whatever talents she got that kept her from being apprehended, and they needed to decide whether or not she was a threat to the general population. If she was then they'd have to put her away. For good.

This time when she heard the deep voice it was right beside her and a hand had clasped itself onto her shoulder. The hand forced her to stop and turn around to look at its owner.

"Natasha," Clint said sternly with an intense gaze. "Calm down."

"I am calm," she retorted and kept his stare coolly. He tilted his head a bit.

"That so? Then how about you go get ready for our mission? We're supposed to be gone in twenty minutes tops."

Natasha twitched her eyebrow up for a quick second. "That's what I was doing," she enlightened before she twisted out of his grasp and began walking down the corridor of the S.H.I.E.L.D. head quarters.

"Nat," Clint called as he remained in his spot with his arms folded across his chest, "your room is in the other direction."

Natasha's steps faltered, only for a moment, before she whirled around and continued the opposite way as though nothing had happened. When she passed Clint he turned and kept pace with her with an exasperated shake of his head.

"Seriously, Nat," he said a little concerned, "what has gotten you so worked up?"

"I'm not worked up," she denied as she turned right down another hallway. It was true, she wasn't worked up. She just wasn't looking forward to working with Tony again on such a big matter. Clint rolled his eyes.

"Right," he agreed sarcastically but dropped the subject. Natasha wasn't one to be open on very many subjects, especially when it came to something involving people she saw as incompetent. Mainly Tony. Even as they reached her room she hadn't seemed to cool down which made Clint's brow knit with unease. If she started off this perturbed on a job then it wouldn't get any better as they went on to complete it. In fact, she might be the one who ruined things rather than Tony. Well, partially. She probably wouldn't help with the Tony situation if she was moody, but in the end the blame would fall on the arrogant billionaire. As it always did.

He realized suddenly that he was wasting time, that Natasha had already begun to gather anything she might need for the mission. He quickly walked a little farther up the hall to his room and entered it with his gray eyes searching the perimeter. As he took mental note of everything he should bring he began stuffing it all into a black bag. Generally they would be fine to conduct the mission from the HQ, since New York was so close, but Tony would be staying at his tower and they needed to keep watch on him. As a result, they needed to haul all of their gear to Tony's tower.

When he was sure he had everything he stepped outside to find Natasha waiting for him with her own duffel bag strapped over her shoulder. She nodded to him and he nodded to her in silent conformation that he was ready. Together they made their way to the roof where a helipad was stationed and prepared themselves for a week of having to deal with Stark. At least… they both sincerely hoped the mission lasted no more than a week.

It was seven in the morning by the time they arrived at Stark's tower. When they had entered and asked Jarvis where Tony was the AI told them that he was sleeping.

"Wake him up," Natasha ordered with impatience as she walked to the back of the bottom floor and pushed the button that summoned the elevator.

"_But Miss, Romanoff_," Jarvis protested, "_Master Stark told me that-"_

"Does it look like I care what Tony told you?" Natasha interrupted before bashing the elevator button with her finger again.

"_I suppose not," _Jarvis concluded. As if to make it a point to tick the agent off, Jarvis couldn't help but add, "_The elevator is already on its way."_

Natasha glared up toward the ceiling and pushed the button one last time for good measure. Clint, though he knew Natasha was not in a good mood about this, could barely hold in a short chuckle at how childish she was acting. In the end he had to cough to cover it up. She looked back at him with her aggravation barley hidden; she wasn't stupid. And she did not like to be scoffed at. Clint had to look away so that he didn't say anything stupid to her.

Already he could tell this was going to be worse than he first assumed. As the elevator doors slid open and the agents stepped on in unison, Clint almost had the urge to tell her to let him do the talking. That would be a big mistake. For now, he would try his best to stay on her good side.

The elevator automatically started climbing the building to the top floor where Tony was stationed. When the doors slid open Natasha took off like a race car, Clint barely able to keep up. He could tell she just wanted to get this over with. Now so did he.

"Tony," Natasha managed somewhat politely as the billionaire exited his room with a hand rubbing his eye.

"Alright," he said as he stopped in front of the two agents. "What did I do this time?"

"Blitzen," Natasha replied bluntly. Tony looked at her as though he was clueless.

"I thought you were Russian," he said finally, "so why are you speaking German? Or maybe you're talking about the reindeer… Hate to break it to you but its not Christmas."

Natasha just looked at him.

"What?" Tony asked with a befuddled shrug. Clint rolled his eyes and intercepted before Natasha tried to punch Tony.

"Blitzen, the wanted criminal," he explained, "Fury got wind that you're tracking her whereabouts?"

Tony paused and looked up at Jarvis. "Did you betray me?" he asked with offense laced in his voice.

"_Of course not, Sir,_" the AI replied incredulously. Tony nodded after a moment and looked back to the agents in front of him.

"You need to tell Fury to mind his own business," he told them with a finger pointed in their direction before he made a move to walk around them. He had to stop when Natasha got in his way.

"We were sent to help you, Stark," she said. Tony stared at her.

"Since when do I need help?" He again tried walking around the two and this time Natasha let him. She turned around as he passed her.

"You lost her, didn't you?" she asked.

Tony stopped in his tracks and grimaced. _How _did the spider always find these things out? He turned around and began backing up toward the elevator with both of his fingers pointed at them.

"You guys are trespassing, by the way, don't make me call security," he threatened before he turned once again and pressed the button that opened the doors to the elevator. Once he was inside he pushed the button to the floor he wanted but just as the doors were about to close, Clint put his arm in the way.

"Come on, Tony," he said with dark eyes. "You don't want to make her mood even worse than it already is. Can you just please hear us out?"

Tony stayed quiet for a moment before he sighed. "You have sixty seconds," he informed, "before I get my suit and kick you out of here myself."

"Blitzen," Natasha began again as she walked over to the two men, "isn't your average criminal, as I'm sure you know. Fury is interested in her abilities and seeks to—"

"Sixty seconds done," Tony interrupted as he scrapped the elevator idea and began walking back to his room.

"That was more like ten," Clint mumbled under his breath before following suit. He caught up with Tony and kept pace with him. "Tony, why are you avoiding this topic?"

"Why are you forcing me into this topic?" the billionaire countered as he entered his room and began to go through his closet for clean clothes.

"Right now she's a threat to both you and S.H.I.E.L.D.," Natasha growled when she had caught up to the two men.

"Yeah, that's why I'm dealing with her," Tony replied.

"How, exactly?" Natasha asked with her arms folded. "You lost her, how do you expect to find her if she has the power to shape shift?"

Tony froze and looked up at the agent with surprise. "What?"

Natasha shrugged. "Don't know. My memory might be jogged if you _sit _and _listen._"

Tony's jaw set as he stared her down. "What do you know?"

"Uh, no, that's not how it's going to work. We both have information, I'd simply like for us to help each other out so that we can capture Blitzen," Natasha stated simply.

"How is that plan going to play out if we don't even know what she looks like right now? You did say something about shape-shifting."

"We'll decide that when we know what you know," Clint replied. Tony's eyes flicked back and forth between the two agents before he quickly pulled out an outfit that he could wear to the meeting.

"Fine but I need to know what you know as well," he declared. "You can look over the files while I'm in the shower." He turned to walk into his bathroom but stopped and looked at them. "And just a warning, if you try to leave without my permission, Jarvis will shoot you."

"_Affirmative,"_ the AI agreed, _"the tower has been installed with a self defense system." _

Tony smiled widely before he closed the door behind him and left to two agents to themselves.

"_The Cienna files are on the monitor across from Master Stark's bed,_" Jarvis informed after a moment.

"Cienna?" Clint asked with a quirked eyebrow as he and Natasha walked over to the monitors. The screens flared to life when they neared them.

"_Yes,_" Jarvis confirmed, "_Though I believe you only know her by her alias, Blitzen._"

Natasha dropped her duffel bag off her shoulder and sat down in the chair stationed at the desk with curiosity. She couldn't believe that Stark had already figured out who Blitzen's identity was. Maybe with him the case might actually get finished faster than if it was just her. Clint placed his bag next to Natasha's and leaned forward with his hands on the back of the chair.

They both read the files in silence until they reached the sciencey part of it. Then they were both lost. By the time they gave up trying to decipher any of the geeky talk, Tony finished his shower.

"So," Tony said with a clap of his hands in front of him as he exited his bathroom in a tan suit and purple shirt. "I take it you guys didn't understand half of what the files said."

The two agents simply looked at the billionaire with expectance.

"Good," Tony smiled, "I'll explain once you tell me what you know."

Natasha glanced up at Clint who nodded. While Tony might be a little pushy, he was still one of the Avengers and was trustworthy as long as there weren't any secrets being kept from him. Finally, Natasha turned in her chair toward Tony and inhaled.

"Blitzen-."

"Cienna," Tony corrected.

"Whatever. She is suspected of either being more than one person or having the ability to change her appearance. She always seems to have something different about her every time she is caught on tape. Sometimes she looks to be in her thirties and other times she looks like she's only sixteen. All of these personas, however, look entirely different from one another."

"Then how do we know that it's actually Blitzen who has committed these crimes?" Tony interrupted.

"Same MO for all of the crimes," Clint replied. "Blown electrical wires and _no one _getting seriously injured, not even if they attacked her."

Tony's brow furrowed. "Then what is she doing that is making her a public menace?"

"Just the fact that she's breaking and entering into a whole lot of public and even private places," Natasha explained, "doesn't exactly mean she's a public menace. Not to us, anyway."

"Wait, wait, wait," Tony stopped her with his hands up as he tried to decipher this, "I thought you said she was a threat to the public. Didn't you also say she was somehow threatening you and I?"

"She is," Natasha confirmed. Tony just stared at her.

"You lost me at the part where you said she is a public menace, and then you said she isn't, and then you said she is. Am I missing something here?"

"Let her explain," Clint answered with exasperation. Tony looked from one to the other before he finally leaned back and folded his arms. Natasha took it as permission to speak without being interrupted.

"All of the places she's broken into have something in common," Natasha continued. "Each and every one has a whole slew of classified information on scientific experiments. Yet, all she has done is go through the files as though she is searching for something in particular. The fact alone that she is able to break into such high-level security places without getting caught is reason enough for Fury to place her on his radar, it doesn't matter what she is looking for or not. What Fury wants us to do is decide whether she is trying to make S.H.I.E.L.D. her enemy or not. If she isn't then we need to recruit her and find out what it is she wants to obtain so badly.

"Fury has a hunch that she isn't into petty thievery; she has some big motivation behind her. Could be money, could be that someone is threatening her family. Whatever it is, we need to assess the situation and figure out what to do with her before she gets what she wants and has the ability to expose something that should be kept a secret."

Tony stayed silent with his brow knit before asking, "What does this have to do with me?"

Clint rolled his eyes. "You have affiliation with S.H.I.E.L.D., Tony. You're bound to be on her list of hits eventually."

Tony shrugged. "If she breaks in I'll catch her. Why don't we just let her come?"

"We're talking about top-class security, Stark," Natasha replied firmly. "She hasn't been caught, not once, and she's done some pretty heavy property damage. She seems to be able to manipulate electricity which means she might also be able to use technology with a single thought. Do you really think you'll be able to stop her all by yourself? And if she's truly more than one person do you think you can stop eighteen highly trained individuals who each have a chance of having this same ability?"

"Eighteen?" Tony asked with a raised eyebrow.

"That's how many personas have been discovered," Natasha clarified.

"So far," Clint added.

At this, Tony had to think. The odds weren't stacking up too nicely at the moment and he honestly had no leads whatsoever in the aspect of finding out where Cienna was hiding out… Or, maybe he did, he thought as his eye caught sight of the iPhone Cienna had given him previously. At the same time, if that came up empty then he would be back to square one. Perhaps it would actually be a good idea to have these two agents on his side rather than them getting in each other's way… What was he thinking? There was no way that he would cooperate with these guys! But then again…

"Fine," Tony finally agreed, "on one condition."

Natasha sighed. "What?"

"Since the Capsicle's not here, I'm the one to call the shots."

Natasha's head tilted slightly to the side. "This is a team effort, Tony."

"Just until I run out of ideas?"

The two agents stared at the billionaire before they turned to look at each other. A silent agreement passed between them before they turned back to Tony.

"Fine, but only if you actually have something useful," Natasha gave in. Tony clapped his hands together.

"Great! Now, I have a meeting to get to so it'll have to wait."

With that he turned and left the two exasperated assassins to themselves. Though Tony wasn't overly fond of teamwork, he _did _sort of work together with these guys to stop the Chitauri apocalypse from happening. Hopefully this mission went off without a hitch, though, or else Cienna could end up being the catalyst to a giant chemical equation that would ultimately destroy both him and S.H.I.E.L.D.

* * *

_Finally posted! Sorry that took so long. XP Please review to tell me how I did!  
_

_-KC_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Cienna slipped her hands in her jacket pockets as she stepped into the cool morning air and sighed as she began walking toward the main street. Other than avoiding any officers that might recognize her she now also had to avoid Ironman. She stopped just before she came out of the alleyway. Who was she kidding? Tony Stark was a billionaire; he could probably afford eyes on every single corner of the city. She wasn't going to be avoiding anyone while she looked like this.

She really didn't want to do it, but it seemed her only option was to morph. It would take her a while to get used to the new body and she might be a little off, but… it was better than remaining in the form she was now.

In case Banner decided to leave his house she wove through a few side streets to be sure that he couldn't see her. He would probably become a little suspicious if he walked out of his house to find her slowly transforming into a whole other person. Once she found a spot that was hidden she took a deep breath and braced herself. No matter how many times she did this, it still came as a shock when she finished.

To increase her concentration she closed her eyes and blocked out all of the sounds of the surrounding city. First, the quiet ones like the wind or people's footsteps. Then, the sounds of cars driving, honking their horns. She continued building up until everything was silent.

Once she was completely absorbed in her brain she worked on changing her appearance. She started first with her eye color, turning it from a dull hazel to a bright blue, and then she made her nose rounder, along with her cheeks. Next she let small, red dots speckle her face and arms. Once that was done she changed her hair from a dark brown to a bright, Irish red. Lastly she changed her body structure from stocky to skinny. When she opened her eyes everything seemed painfully magnetized and she had to pull the glasses off of her face. Every time she changed her eyes it seemed her prescription bounced back and forth without reason. In her real body her eyes were perfect but as she changed appearances she went from being near sighted to far sighted to both and back again. It was rather annoying and expensive.

Once Cienna had finished, as expected, she felt a sudden drain in energy and dropped to her knees. She stayed there a few minutes to catch her breath before pushing herself to her feet. She then turned and made her way back to the main street, her breathing still a little abnormal. The sidewalks and roads were busy, full with tourists and people making their way to work; it seemed like the ideal place to find some sort of directory. She still didn't have the slightest clue where she was and her meeting with her possible lead was at eight. When she had checked the clock before leaving Banner's it was 7:30 so she only had twenty minutes tops after that.

Cienna started pushing her way through the crowd as she looked for some sort of map. It didn't take too long, as the city was large and many people seemed to get lost throughout the year. Many of the shops had them. She quickly found where she was and sighed. Why did she have to land so far away from the planned meeting spot? She didn't even want to bother trying to get a taxi. What was the point? She would just get caught up in a lot of traffic and end up being late. As she left the store she shoved the map into her pocket.

She once again found a suitable deserted alleyway and pulled her hood up over her head so that no one could see who she was. She glanced around a few times to make sure no one had followed her and then blasted into the sky with speed that was barely visible. With any luck she would be moving so fast that anyone who saw her would mistake her for Iron Man.

As she weaved amongst the city's tall sky scrapers she couldn't help but feel a little uneasy. Already she had searched so many high-tech, classified archives that she was beginning to think she would never find it. It _had _to be out there, though. Without it she might never be able to get rid of this horrid curse…

When she spotted the run down building she was to go for her meeting she flew low to the ground, cut her power off, and flipped before landing with a hardly a sound only a few feet away from the door. She took a deep breath and steadied herself for a moment. Hopefully her energy had replenished enough with the burger she ate or else the side effects would be kicking in pretty quickly.

As soon as she was sure that her feet would not sway beneath her she stood up straight and strode to the door as if she owned the world. In this business you had to look powerful so that no one would try to undermine you. Not that she wouldn't be able to detect it if someone was, but she still wanted to avoid unnecessary trouble.

Before her knuckles were able to make contact with the rusting iron door in front of her, it swung open and a gun was pointed at her head. She slowly lowered her fist and started at the one in possession of the gun. It was a woman, she could tell that much. She was completely covered in black clothing aside from her fingertips that poked out of her fingerless gloves and a small oval circle in her mask that surrounded her intense, green gaze. They both stood there, sizing each other up before the woman with the gun spoke.

"How does Love speak?" she asked, her eyes staring holes into Cienna.

"In the faint flush upon the telltale cheek," Cienna replied without emotion. Immediately the gun was removed.

"You have to stop doing that," the woman growled. "Every single time we meet you change. One day someone is going to find out about that little code of yours and then I won't know it's you! What will you do if that happens?"

Cienna shrugged and pushed past the raving mercenary. "I'll change the code."

The mercenary gave an exasperated sigh as she slammed the door shut and shoved her gun into its holster on her hip. The space on the inside of the building wasn't fairing much better than the outside. Weeds stuck through the cracked tile floor and cobwebs covered the expansion of the roof. Heavy water damage was sustained in several places and the room was bare of all furnishings. The light bulb hanging from the ceiling was the only light aside from the streams of sun that trickled through the many cracks in the crumbling walls.

"Where are we at?" Cienna demanded as she walked to the back of the poorly lit room and made her way up the creaking stairs. She could hear hurried footsteps trying to keep up behind her.

"We have a lead," the mercenary huffed when they made it to the top of the stairs. This room wasn't much better; all of the windows were boarded up and the only thing present other than dust mites was a lone wooden table in the center of the room. "There's a-"

"Did you check for bugs?" Cienna interrupted. The mercenary stopped walking and placed her hands on her hips.

"Do you not trust me?"

"You're a mercenary," Cienna stated. The mercenary sighed.

"Of course I checked for bugs, I'm just as dead as you if we're overheard," she reassured half-heartedly. Cienna met the other woman's gaze for a moment before she turned to a window that was on the wall next to her. She walked up to it and peered through the wood boards for no particular reason. As she leaned on the wall with her elbow folded above her head she let her senses sweep over the building and along a one hundred foot perimeter around them, just in case. A normal human could only detect so much. When she was satisfied that they were indeed alone she spoke up without turning from the window.

"What kind of lead?" she asked.

"The kind that under any normal circumstance I would render a fool's errand," the mercenary replied as she walked up to Cienna with her arms folded. She leaned her shoulder on the wall and stared at Cienna with intense focus. "If I tell you you're not going to like it."

Cienna turned her head so that her blue eyes met her informant's without falter. She didn't care where she had to break into, as long as she found what she needed. "Well?"

The mercenary drew in a deep breath before removing herself from the wall and walking over to the table Cienna had previously thought was empty. Immediately Cienna followed the other woman.

"A new agency has recently sprung out from the depths of the beyond, seemingly from nowhere." She stopped and looked up at Cienna as she leaned her hands on the table. Cienna stood directly across the table from her and quirked an eyebrow. Was she going to have to explain to the mercenary again that she didn't care where she needed to break into? She was pretty sure she covered that when they first met.

"The agency," the mercenary continued after she pointed to the blueprints that were spread across the table, "is called Celestial Inc. A few years ago it went from being a small, family-owned business to one of the top agencies in America. It's only superior is called S.H.I.E.L.D. whom your father worked for before he became a free-lance scientist. Being that C.I. is S.H.I.E.L.D.'s competition, they would stop at nothing to obtain any files that S.H.I.E.L.D. would want kept secret, including anything your father was working on. Recently I've heard that in a secret facility C.I. scientists are working on enhancing humans with a special kind of harnessed energy, much like what your father was experimenting with. If anyone has the answers you're looking for, it's C.I."

Cienna's gaze dropped down to the blueprints in front of her and she just stared. Celestial Incorporations… Why celestial? They obviously weren't working with stars, was it just a front? Whatever the reason, it didn't sit well with Cienna. As she committed the blueprints of the company's main building to heart she realized that this was going to be a mission unlike anything like she had taken part in before.

The other buildings were simple; easy ins and easy outs. They claimed to have top level security but she was almost certain that was merely a deterrent to whoever wanted to try and break in. With C.I. she could tell that it would take a lot more planning than she needed previously. It had sixty-seven floors, the top ten of which held no record on the blueprints. They were allegedly just empty rooms. She had a hunch, however, that the rooms were anything but empty. What were they hiding?

Aside from that there was only one way to the top floors and that was through the elevators that had security cameras, and most likely a code that needed to be entered. If she wanted to get in she'd have to go through the vents above, but all of the bottom rooms were public and she doubted she'd be able to find a place she could be alone. Expertly, the vents in the bathrooms were too small for anyone to get into; C.I. was made to make it impossible for people like her to get into.

There was a pipe line in the basement that she could use to get into the elevator shaft, but the basement was closed to the public. If there was another way in the blue prints showed no record of it, so the only way she'd be able to make a full-proof plan would be if she did some personal reconnaissance.

There was a shifting noise that brought Cienna out of her brain train and caused her to look up. The mercenary was restless and watching her expectantly. Cienna finally breathed in and stood up straight.

"I'm going to survey the building before I make any decisions to move," she informed, "I'll need you to be on stand by until I have my plan."

Fear suddenly entered the mercenary's eyes as she straightened to meet Cienna's gaze. "You can't do that," she warned. Cienna tilted her head to the side.

"And why not?"

"I've done my research; _no one _gets inside those walls without a security check. If you take the form of someone that doesn't exist then you'll be thrown out, or maybe imprisoned. This is an illegal secret agency; they don't play by the rules. Whatever they do it will be outside of the law."

Cienna smiled. "Then I'll have to use an identity that's not forged, will I not?"

"You can't go as your true form," the mercenary said quickly. "You'd have to find someone to impersonate. If they knew the famous Doctor Kavanagh's daughter visited them then they'd be all over you and they'd no doubt suspect the worst. You have to go as someone who needs help and who has absolutely no attachments to S.H.I.E.L.D. or any other agencies."

The smile on Cienna's lips widened. "Good God, June," she said, using the mercenary's name for the first time in a while, "are you actually concerned for my well being?"

June huffed and looked away. "Of course not, I just don't want the mission to end before it's even started."

Cienna nodded, not believing a word of it. "You don't have to worry about me," she reassured as she turned and began descending the stairs. "Keep those blueprints safe," she ordered just before she was out of hearing range.

"Yeah, yeah," June mumbled as she began to roll up the papers on the table. Cienna's smile faded as she exited the building and looked around to make sure there wasn't anyone who could follow her. When she was sure there was no one she turned and began walking to one of the main streets nearby. She needed to find someone to masquerade as, but how was she going to pull that off?

She not only needed someone's face, but their I.D. and probably some other personal information as well. Where exactly was she supposed to get something like that? She'd cut all ties to anyone she'd known in the past so she wouldn't be able to impersonate one of her past friends and she had no one else. She couldn't ask family and she couldn't get personal information from just anyone without careful preparation.

She sighed as she reached the now extremely crowded streets of New York. There was only one way that she'd be able to pull this off and she didn't like it in the slightest, but it was something that had to be done. Thankfully the place she needed to go wasn't too far off so she could just walk and think. Think was the most important part.

She was low on money and might not have enough to pay for what she was about to order. Thankfully, she already took care of her lodging situation when she left her backpack in Banner's apartment. To him it would seem like an honest mistake, but it was no accident. She most likely wouldn't have to pay him up front so she could stall in that sense, but she still needed money for food and supplies. The only way she would get that was if she took a job. Hopefully the person she was going to for the fake I.D. would have one for her. Then it would be possible to kill two birds with one stone.

If this plan failed, however, she had nothing substantial that would be able to keep her going; she'd have to drop off the grid again. The only possible chance she would have if she couldn't get the I.D. was resting on one billionaire's shoulders. If Tony took the bait and returned the iPhone to its "true owner" then he might begin to question whether she was the criminal everyone thought she was, and that was all that he needed. Eventually he would go against his superiors, as Cienna was positive he always did, and help her. Even if she did get the I.D. she could use Tony's resources. A lot.

Cienna's thoughts stopped as she stepped in front of the bar she had been heading to. As usual the sign hanging in the front window said the bar was closed at this hour, but she knew better than that. The bar was open, just not to the general public. Hopefully the boss was in because if she made her request any later it might be too late. With an instinctual glance over her shoulder she walked up to the window so that anyone inside could see her and she rapped on it in Morse code.

Short short short long, short short, short long long short. Three simple letters: VIP. It was the pass for only the "very important people."

Once she was done she let her hand fall from the glass and she looked out across the sea of people trying to get to where they needed to be. None of them so much as glanced away from the path they walked, not once. It almost saddened her, but then again it wasn't her problem. People had trust issues and that was simply a fact of life.

The lock clicking on the door dragged her attention away from the citizens of the city and she reached forward to open the red double doors. Upon entry to the small tavern she was met with many pairs of curious eyes; it seemed Cahone had become a lot more popular than he had been previously. Cienna closed and locked the door behind her as her eyes traveled around the room for the one she was looking for.

The chairs were all stacked on top of their respective tables, sans the ones being used for Cahone's lackeys. The actual bar was set to the very left of the back corner and currently held a make-shift bartender. He was really only there to pass around the beers since the daytime customers weren't real fancy with what kind of alcohol they got as long as they got it. On the right where the bar opened for the waiters and waitresses to go through was a doorway covered with long strings of brightly colored beads. Of all the people in the room she did not find the one she was looking for.

He wasn't there. She looked back to the man at the bar with determination. Her jaw set and she was about to ask when Cahone would return, but she was stopped by the swishing sound of the beads as someone passed through them. Her eyes quickly flicked toward the sound. There he was, just as she'd remembered him.

Tall, muscular, proud. He looked as though he owned the world. He wore his usual white suit, the jacket hanging open to reveal a black button-up shirt whose top few buttons weren't fastened. Around his neck were several chains that held dog tags, a silent but arrogant show of his former military status. His black hair was wild but not messy and his dark eyes traveled Cienna's figure hungrily.

"Well, well, well," he said with a large smile as his eyes finally met hers. "What have we here?"

Under any normal circumstance Cienna wouldn't have said what she did after that. If she was talking to anyone other than Cahone she would be smart about her words, but she didn't have the time or patience to try and get him off of her without making him look like a fool.

"Can it, Cahone," she ordered as she stared him down without letting her emotions show. Cahone's confident smile immediately faded into a disappointed pucker.

"Well, there's only one woman who would turn me down that quickly," he stated as he motioned with his hand for Cienna to enter the doorway he had just come from. Without hesitation she walked briskly through the door and to the back room. The room's lights were dim to "set the mood," as Cahone had often said. There was a large, black leather couch stationed in front of a T.V. and coffee table, normally used for guests who wanted some privacy for business or… other means. Due to that fact whenever Cienna entered the place she refused to sit down, unlike Cahone who sat in the middle of the couch and sprawled out as much as he could without looking awkward or uncomfortable.

"I have to say, sweetheart," Cahone said with a slight smirk, "that new body doesn't really suit you."

Cienna ignored him. "How fast can you get me information on a person that I can impersonate?"

Cahone raised an eyebrow. "Come again?"

"I need an I.D.," Cienna explained as she folded her arms across her chest, "of someone who has absolutely no connection to anything big, whether its organizations or a sports team. How fast can you find me what I need?"

"Honey, I own a bar," Cahone scoffed, "I have less than innocent people in here everyday with absolutely nothing big about them but their drinking problem."

"But can you get information on them?"

Cahone quirked an eyebrow. "What kind of information are you looking for?"

"Anything. Height, weight, personal things; as long as I have enough to impersonate them so I can enter a building. It's a classified building, if you were wondering."

Cahone rubbed his hand across his chin in thought. "That's not all, is it?" he asked finally. "I can practically smell your unease."

Cienna shook her head. "No, that's not all. I need a job."

This caused Cahone to lean forward with his elbows resting on his knees. "You mean a job, or a _job_?"

Cienna just deadpanned him. He tilted his head slightly and looked away.

"That answers that," he mumbled to himself before he righted his head and gave Cienna an intense stare. "How big of a fish do you need?"

"The biggest."

Cahone nodded. "Lucky for you I just got a new batch today. You've got the pick of the litter."

He sat back in the couch so that he could look through the doorway and whistled. A young boy, no older than seventeen, stopped what he was doing and made eye contact with his boss. Immediately he stood and made his way over to the room but stopped before he entered through the beads.

"Go get me my bucket list," Cahone ordered with a jolt of his head. The boy nodded and left the doorway. In the silence that followed Cienna didn't dare look at the mafia man seated in front of her even though she could feel his eyes on her. Thankfully the boy was quick in his task and returned with a manila file in hand before Cahone was able to say what was on his mind. Cahone took the file with a small nod to dismiss the boy. When they were once again alone, Cahone threw the file onto the coffee table in front of him.

"Take your pick," he said without removing his gaze from her. Cienna glanced at him as she reached down to take the file. Before she was able to pick it up, Cahone was on his feet, his hand holding hers down so that she couldn't move. Cienna glanced up at him, her eyes filled with ice, but did not try to escape or say anything. Cahone searched her eyes for a moment with a scowl before he let go. Cienna remained silent and held his stare without falter as she continued to grab the file.

"You've changed," he said and sat back down. "I had to make sure it was really you. No matter how hard to try, you can never hide that spark when you're under pressure."

Cienna opened the file without reacting to this. At least, she didn't react on the outside. On the inside she was cursing her eyes without pause. Yes, no matter what she did to suppress the energy inside her, it would always show if one looked close enough. The human eyes were traitorous things, all the time giving away the emotions one packed into their deepest depths.

The file Cahone had given her contained several different profiles on wanted criminals with bounties on their head as well as a disagreement with the mafia man. These particular bounties were in the six digits; something challenging but with great benefits. Bounty hunting was what she always returned to if she was falling a little short on green.

As Cienna reached the very last profile her jaw set. There were several pictures attached and no information other than a name.

"You," Cienna began but stopped as her facial features threatened to contort with anger. She swallowed before she was able to continue without emotion. "You put me on this list."

Cahone smiled apologetically as his men filed into the room with guns in hand.

"Sorry, doll, but I have to look out for good business. You're not it anymore."

Cienna closed her eyes, barely able to process the information. Cahone, one of the only people she felt that she could trust, even if he was a mafia man, had just betrayed her. For what? Half a mil? He was hip deep in a sea of cash, that couldn't have been the reason. So why was he bothering?

Suddenly the meaning of the words he had just said took full meaning. She apparently "wasn't it anymore." Was he trying to say that she was merely a pawn to him and now that she ran out of usefulness he was going to cut her off so she didn't let any information slip? Was that it?

He was so naïve. Did he really think he could just dispose of the powerful friends he had made so easily? He wasn't removing her because he had no more use for her; he was afraid that _she _had no more use for _him. _He was a coward, as all men of his stature were. Unlucky for him he chose the wrong time to piss her off.

As Cahone motioned for his men to grab Cienna, her eyes opened, their color dyed to a deep, navy blue with yellow streaks running through them.

"Big mistake," she growled and threw the file down on the coffee table. Cahone would have hell to pay.

* * *

_Oh, snap! Cienna's angry. :3 I like cliff hangers, by the way. Don't know if you noticed. Anywho, review cuz you know you want to! :D  
_

_-KC_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Clint slumped onto the couch on the top floor of Tony's tower with a huff. Despite tirelessly looking for leads on Blitzen for the past hour and a half they couldn't find anything. Normally that wasn't too long of a time period but the fact that they were currently running on nothing made it seem all the worse. He had openly voiced his complaints to Natasha who finally kicked him out of the room she was working in and without anything better to do he made his way to the living room to watch some TV.

He grabbed the remote and pushed the power button, not at all sure what he wanted to watch. He flipped through the channels slowly and paused on each one to decide whether he wanted to watch it or not, but voted no on each one. He eventually made it to a news channel and was going to continue through without bothering to see what was happening like he always did, but for some reason the scene that the helicopter camera focused on caught his attention.

There were two people, a man and a woman. The man had a gun but the woman had no weapons. The two were just standing there as though they were speaking, but after a few moments the man lifted his gun to shoot. The woman, however, quickly held her own hand up and shot electricity at the man. At this Clint immediately sat forward in his chair.

"Natasha," he called to his partner.

"Not now, Clint," came the muffled reply from another room. The woman on screen was now effectively dodging bullets and running toward the man with amazing agility. Clint didn't take his eyes off the screen as he tried to find out where they were.

"Natasha, you need to come see this," he insisted. There was a pause before he heard heels clicking on the tile floor toward him.

"What, Clint?" Natasha asked in exasperation. Clint merely motioned to the screen. When Natasha's eyes surveyed what was happening, she quickly turned on her heel and ran to the room where the two agent's bags were.

"Get me my bow," Clint called after her. The battle was still going on when a female narrator began to speak.

"This scene is one New York has become accustomed to seeing recently," she said, "and we are left to question whether these two individuals are on our side or against us."

_Yeah, we don't care about that, _Clint thought, _where the hell is this taking place?_

"Not moments ago," the voice continued, "the man seen with the gun was sent flying through an unopened bar's window on the corner of 3rd Avenue and East 35th street-"

That was all Clint needed to know. He shut the TV off and launched himself off the couch toward the elevator with Natasha right behind him. She handed him his bow and quiver and together they went down to the garage below Stark Tower as quickly as possible. They hopped in the car that was closest to the door (it was, to Clint's joy, a black Corvette) and thankfully, being that Tony had apparently impassible security, the keys were already in the ignition. The two agents sped away from Stark tower, weaving in and out of traffic with the hope to catch Blitzen without any struggle. It would make their day a hell of a lot better.

* * *

"How stupid can you get?" Cienna growled at Cahone as she held him against the building opposite his bar by his neck. "Do you really think that a couple of hopeless fools armed with guns can get to me?"

"A-apparently not," Cahone managed. Cienna's eyes flashed; he was hiding something. With the way Cahone normally was it seemed that he had been hypnotized or something. Right then he should have been trying to persuade her to let go of him so that they could make a deal. She didn't like it; what was he planning?

She completely ignored the terrified people running by as well as the people trying to capture what was happening on their cameras and sent a small pulse of electricity through Cahone that caused him to jolt a little and groan in pain. Right then she just needed to set something straight with the traitor.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" she asked rhetorically. "I might just be persuaded to let go if you quit this game and we go back to how we were before. I make a request and you fulfill it if I do a job for you. Doesn't that sound a little better than this whole stabbing each other in the back thing? Oh but wait, you've proven that I can't trust you so I now no longer need you."

Cahone's eyes focused on something behind Cienna and he just smiled. Cienna stiffened as she sensed what he was smiling at. So, she was double-crossed once again. Twice in a day, to set a record apparently.

"Let him go," a stern voice said from behind her. Cienna tightened her fingers around Cahone's throat to be sure he got the message before she let go and slowly turned to face the two people behind her. The one who spoke was a woman that was dressed in black with short, curly red hair and who currently held two hand guns pointed at Cienna. To the right of the woman was a man with sandy brown hair who was also dressed in black. He held a bow pointed at Cienna with the draw string pulled back and an arrow waiting to be released.

Behind the two was a black Corvette and Cienna wondered how she hadn't heard the thing pull up; she was no foreigner to expensive cars. These people definitely weren't with the police force or anything that had to do with the government. Who they were didn't concern her at that current moment, however. She needed to let off a little steam and they only served to help her achieve this without accidently killing Cahone. Speaking of which, the coward had run as soon as Cienna's back was turned. She would deal with him later.

Cienna eyed the two people in front of her and allowed a smile to creep over her face.

"To whom do I owe the pleasure?" she asked politely. She really didn't care but figured she might as well try to get the two to lower their guard a little.

"I don't think that's of importance right now," the woman said with the hint of a threat in her voice. Cienna's head tilted to the side as she studied them.

"I'm assuming that you don't want this ordeal to become worse than it is," Cienna threatened back with the kindness completely gone from her tone, "so I'd put the weapons away if I were you."

"Funny I was going to suggest the same thing to you," the man spoke with a pointed look at her.

"I physically can't put my weapons away," Cienna scoffed, "so that would be a rather stupid suggestion. How about we get back to the name part of this so I know where to send your ashes back to once this is finished?"

The man narrowed his eyes. "If you want to know that badly then you can call me Hawkeye. This is Black Widow," he informed with a nod of his head toward the woman.

"An alias, huh? Well then, you might as well call me Blitzen."

"Except we already know who you are, _Cienna,_" Black Widow hissed. Cienna didn't flinch. A name didn't mean anything if they didn't know what she was going to look like each day. She had the advantage of knowing exactly what her opponents looked like now.

"I was wondering when you were going to find out," she said with disinterest. "I've been on the criminal chart for what, twenty years now? Not that it matters. You have no idea what I look like and it's going to stay that way."

Hawkeye raised an eyebrow. "So you _can _shape shift. Good to hear; that means there aren't eighteen of you like we previously thought. The odds seem slightly against you, no? Two against one."

Cienna couldn't help but give a short laugh. "If there were eighteen of me I would have taken over the world by now. I think you'll find it hard enough to deal with just one of me."

Without further stalling, Cienna held up her hands and sent two blasts of electricity at the, she assumed, assassins. The two dive rolled out of the way in opposite directions and each fired shots at her. Cienna leapt into the air and stayed floating above the ground with a smirk. This looked like it was going to be fun.

She landed a little ways away and again shot electricity at her two assailants. Both of them seemed to dodge and fire in sync and Cienna actually had trouble being able to move out of the way of both the bullets and the arrows being fired at her. When one of the arrows grazed her cheek she decided that maybe lengthy attacks weren't the right way to deal with this.

She powered up and flew toward Hawkeye, dodging and weaving as bullets and arrows soared through the air in her direction. When she was a few feet away from him she pulled her fist back and formed a ball of electricity in it then thrust it toward his gut. There was a moment where nothing happened, everything seemed still. Then the force of the blow caused the assassin to fly into the building behind him. He hit the wall with a grunt and slumped to the ground.

Cienna had a smirk on her face before she realized that just before she had hit the man he shot an arrow at her from point blank; it was now currently lodged in her abdomen. She gritted her teeth and her hand instinctively moved up to her wound as the other assassin fired another round at her. Hazily, she shot up into the air and scowled down at the two.

"Don't think this is over," she snarled. The woman continued firing shots at her as she disappeared over the building.

Natasha cursed under her breath when Cienna flew out of range. Flying wasn't in the profile earlier; otherwise she would have contacted Tony before engaging. Now it seemed like the only way to capture this girl was with, she loathed to admit it, Tony's complete help.

Natasha holstered her guns and her head shot down so that she looked at Clint who was now doubled over on the ground. She ran over to him and knelt down with a hand on his shoulder.

"Clint, you alright?" she asked. Clint coughed but nodded. He looked up and slowly pushed himself to his feet.

"I've been hit with worse," he managed, slightly hinting on the knock to the head he had personally received from her. Natasha searched his eyes before nodding slowly. Before they could further say anything, the sound of sirens reached their ears.

"Great," Clint grumbled under his breath.

"Come on," Natasha ordered and quickly made her way back to the car. That could have gone a lot better. At the very least Cienna was wounded and would likely stay put long enough for them to be able to narrow down the area she was staying in.

As soon as she and Clint were safely inside the Corvette Natasha slammed her foot down on the gas pedal and rushed back to Stark Tower. The ride was silent for a few minutes until Clint spoke up.

"The arrow," he said with most of the control back in his voice. "Did she take it out?"

Natasha eyed him for a moment before she returned her attention back to the crowded road in front of her.

"No. Why?"

Clint coughed and shook his head, still not fully recovered from the hard blow to his gut.

"I, uh," he paused, "I shot her with one of my tracking arrows. I use them to find a wounded deer if I hit and miss while hunting."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you hunt deer?"

"Everyone has their past times," he said dismissively. "Anyways, if she didn't remove it then there's a chance that we can track her whereabouts to the point she felt it safe to stop and remove the arrow. I highly doubt she'll think to destroy the arrowhead."

Clint shifted and removed a small, square device from his back pocket and pushed on the circle button that was below the screen. Natasha glanced at it and shook her head.

"Not right now. We need a plan, and you need to rest," she stated. Clint looked at her.

"Why would we need a plan if we're just going to pick the arrow up?"

Natasha looked at him as though he were an idiot. "If she sees us then there's absolutely no reason for her to stay put. She'd be gone and we'd be back to where we started. Do you really want to be thrown into a wall again in order to place a tracking device on her that may or may not actually lead us to where she's staying?"

Clint sniffed and turned the small, black square in his hand off. He supposed not; it really didn't feel that wonderful and he would rather avoid it happening a second time. It was strange, though, what happened. Cienna had hit him with a ball of electricity that should have, at the very least, knocked him out. Yet, he merely flew backwards into the building with only a few, rather large, bruises and his lungs emptied of air. If she was such a horrible criminal then she should have ended his life right then and there. She certainly had the ability to, though he hated to admit that he was caught so off-guard. What exactly was Cienna's motive for putting on such a large front?

She might have been angry and caught up in the heat of the battle, but for the split second he'd been able to see her up close there was no malice in her eyes. So what, pray tell, did pretending to be a villain get her?

By the time the two had arrived back at Tony's tower Clint was, for the most part, revived. At the very least he could walk without stumbling. Tony had not yet returned from his meeting so they were left to their own devices to formulate a plan on how to capture Cienna without tearing down buildings in the process.

* * *

Tony walked down the large and rather fancy hallway with a scowl plastered to his face. Of course he wasn't doing enough of this, and he should be doing more of that. Was there anything to a meeting that wasn't trying to boss people around? Not that he knew of. And then Pepper couldn't show up. Why? She apparently went to her cousin's wedding without inviting, or even telling him. The nerve! He had to sit through people talking about only the bad things. What happened to the good things?

He stopped thinking about it for a moment to greet some mayor of a city in India that he never heard of. Apparently, Tony was world famous and even people from other countries wanted to meet him. When did that happen? He had no idea. When he finally made it outside of the building, he found his body guard, Happy, waiting for him.

"Yo, Happy!" He greeted his friend, "Ready to roll?"

"Always am," Happy replied as he tossed Tony the keys to his silver Acura NSX. Tony caught them with ease and climbed into the driver's seat with Happy following on the passenger's side.

Before starting to drive Tony took out the phone Cienna had thrown him and tried to unlock it. No surprise: pass code. He gave up for the moment, as he left his hacking tools in his tower, and turned on the engine of the car. He drove quickly away from the large building he had just been in and headed toward his own even larger building. It luckily didn't take long to get there and as soon as the car was in the garage, he gave Happy the keys.

"You park, I got stuff to do," he told him as he swung the door open and began walking toward the closest elevator.

Happy nodded. It wasn't an unusual thing for Tony to be lazy, that was the reason he had hired him in the first place. He was, literally, what you would call a grunt.

Once Tony reached the elevator he pressed the button for one of the higher floors, his most favorite set of rooms. Probably because it was where he kept all of his new and dangerous toys. He often wondered if it was considered crazy to love to make weapons just so one could take out their anger on dummies that had faces of different people taped to them. Not that it truly mattered, no billionaire could be completely sane unless they shot something every once in a while… right?

A high-pitched ding came from the elevator and the doors slid open. Tony stepped out and immediately went to the large desk that was in the middle of the tool-littered room.

"Jarvis, hack into this and tell me where the owner lives," he commanded his AI as he set the iPhone down on the desk and plugged it in with a charger that he really had no idea why he had. Apple products were _way _behind in the technology department compared to what Tony normally used. Really, he didn't know why anyone bothered with such old-fashioned tech.

"_Right away, sir, it'll only take a minute," _Jarvis answered back. Tony busied himself in deciding what weapon he would most like to shoot Fury with for sending him on this stupid mission. Natasha and Clint were already on the case, so why did he have to be there? For all he knew the two agents could be keeping an eye on Cienna just as well as on himself, most likely to make sure he wasn't doing anything outside the law. The thought was highly irrational, though, considering he sacrificed himself to save Manhattan from a nuclear explosion three years prior to this. Tony couldn't for the life of him know why he had to drop everything to go on this wild goose chase.

"_Owner's location confirmed, Sir," _Jarvis informed, breaking Tony from his thoughts. Tony walked back to the desk and looked at the largest of the many glass screens that were stacked on the desk. There was a picture of a man in his late seventies and incredibly 80's looking glasses. Above the picture was his name, Fredrick Gisborne. That brought back memories of learning about the Medieval Times in school, if anything. Just under the name was an address which Tony quickly locked into the GPS in his own phone. As soon as that was finished, he pocketed the two phones and walked back toward the elevator.

"Thanks, Jarvis. Tell Pep that I'll be out for a while if she finds it in her schedule to return from her cousin's little wedding. Oh, and tell the two assassins that I'll be gone for a while longer and not to worry."

"_With pleasure, Sir."_

And with that, Tony went back to the garage level of the building. The elevator doors opened to reveal a surprised Happy who was apparently about to get onto the elevator himself.

"Alright, back on the road," Tony said with a smile as he pushed past his friend. Happy gave an irritated sigh before following the arrogant billionaire.

"What exactly was the point of making me park, then?" he asked.

"Mm… Seemed more official," Tony decided as he made his way over to the car. He stopped at his black Corvette, however, and frowned. He definitely did not leave it parked in that spot. Did Clint take it for a joy ride or something? With a shrug he turned and continued on to the car he was previously in.

Happy didn't even bother himself with asking what Tony meant by 'more official.' Once they reached the car, Tony held out his hand for the keys. Just for good measure, Happy decided to ignore him and get into the driver's seat. Tony rolled his eyes, but crossed to the other side of the car without complaining. A voice coming from the direction of the elevator stopped him, though.

"Tony," Natasha called. Tony smiled.

"Sorry, Barbie, gotta run," he informed before he opened the door to his car.

"_Tony,_" Natasha demanded as she began speed walking toward him. She never seemed able to walk at a normal pace, Tony realized. "Where are you going?"

"To find a guy named Frederick Gisborne," he replied impassively. "What are you doing?"

"Tracking Blitzen," Natasha replied almost offensively when she reached Tony. Was he asking her that because he thought she wasn't doing anything?

"Good for you, then you don't need me right now. I guess that means I'll be leaving," Tony said shortly.

"Tony," Natasha growled with exasperation as he sat down and closed the car door. She had half a mind to follow him in another one of his cars but decided that she might as well not waste her time. She turned around and headed back to the room she had just left Clint in.

"Where to?" Happy asked when the car pulled out of the tower. Tony supplied his cell which had a route highlighted in blue on a map. Happy raised his eyebrows at where the destination was, but kept his question to himself. He highly doubted Tony would like him asking why he was heading to an old retirement home, as his pride seemed to come before all.

It would have taken only twenty minutes to arrive at the home had it not been for the traffic. The trip extended for three quarters of an hour and Tony continuously mumbled that the reason he always flew where he needed to go when he was in the city was because of all the other people impeding his ability to drive quickly. Happy mentally translated it as Tony was too impatient to wait for other drivers but in the city there was really not much room to drive recklessly so he decided instead to irresponsibly fly his suit everywhere.

When they reached the home, Happy dropped Tony off at the front before he parked. Tony strode confidently toward the door and entered as though he were headed to an important media conference. How else was he supposed to deal with the overwhelming cheese stench of old people?

When he walked through the doors he was surprised to find that no one was there. He wandered around for a few minutes, still coming up empty, until he heard a large crash and several shouts following. The noise continued as Tony located its origin and came to a door labeled "CAFATERIA." He opened the door and peeked through, but quickly closed it as a glob of mashed potatoes flew at him.

"Jeezis, and Pepper wonders why I never want to meet her parents!" he exclaimed to himself. He waited a few moments before opening the door again so that he could see what was going on. Food was flying, old people were hobbling, furniture was rearranged into forts, and the whole place looked like a huge mess, to say the least. Tony felt genuinely sorry for whoever had to clean this up.

Before continuing into the room to find his target, he eyed a silver platter that was left conveniently next to the door and picked it up so that he could deflect any flying potato-balls that were headed his way. The going was slow, and the geezers who hastily made their way around didn't help him in any way.

"Um, excuse me?" he tried asking one of the shorter, slower men. The old guy just looked up at Tony with a surprised and scared expression.

"You'd better run boy," was all he said before he disappeared behind a table.

"Wait, run? Why?" Tony tried to stop him, but he was already gone. Which was completely irrational considering the man was old and shouldn't have been able to move much faster than a snail. Tony's question was soon answered by a loud voice from across the room.

"FIRE!" someone shouted. Tony turned his head in the direction of the call and took a short breath in.

"Oh boy," was the only thing he could manage before a rally of food started flying toward him. He ducked, turned, dodged, weaved, and everything else he could do to avoid getting hit, but ended up with some green Jell-O on his tan slacks. He froze, anger raised dangerously high at his predicament. These were his favorite pair of slacks and Pepper would no doubt have a fit if she saw the stain the Jell-O would undoubtedly cause. Not only that, but the green was the worst kind. They could have at least hit him with red or blue.

"Alright, that's enough!" he shouted. The result was that all of the food became completely still and the old people emerged from behind their table-forts. "Can someone _please _tell me where Frederick Gisborne is?"

The same small man that had told Tony to run stepped forward. "He's probably in his room waiting for his daughter to come back; he doesn't like to do much when she isn't around."

"And where exactly is his room located?"

"In the back, last door on the left," an old woman answered.

Tony nodded and straitened his jacket before he started to walk out. "Thank you," he said as he exited the room. As soon as the door was closed, he wasn't surprised to hear different people as they shouted orders to their food-throwers. He did not want to ever go to an old person's home ever again. Not without his own army of vegetable-catapulters, anyway.

He headed through the home at a quick rate; he really wanted to get this over with. If Frederick wasn't down there flinging food, then he must be some old grump that smelled like cheese… unless the new norm for old people was to smell like candy. In which case, Tony wouldn't mind so much.

After he passed a living room-looking area, Tony made his way down the narrow hallway to the last door on the left. In the hall all was quiet, save for the tapping his shoes caused, and seemed lonely due to the walls being bare of all décor.

The hallway came to an abrupt end where the last door on the left was squished tightly in a corner. Tony rapped on the door and waited, but there was no answer. He knocked a little louder, but still no answer. Finally, he slowly opened the door and poked his head in.

"Hello?" he asked to the empty room before he fully walked through the door frame. The room was just as bare as the hallways; only instead of a dull blue they were painted a sickening white. Even the wood furniture and carpets were white, which made the room seem almost like a hospital. The only thing that made the room seem homey was a small framed picture that was sitting on top of the bedside table.

Tony, always being curious, walked over and picked the picture up. To his surprise, a young girl in her mid-twenties was smiling up at him. She had the same strawberry red hair and feisty russet eyes that he had remembered Michelle Kavanagh to have; only the nose and ears framed Walter almost perfectly. The resemblance to Cienna's parents was way too uncanny and Tony began to suspect that this Frederick guy wasn't just some random victim Cienna happened to steal a phone from.

"What are you doing here?" a voice demanded from behind Tony who dropped the picture, but was able to, very ungracefully, catch it and place it safely back on its post. He turned around and found himself looking at the 80's glasses from the picture of the man he was looking for.

"Ah, Frederick, right? I was just looking for you and when you didn't answer I thought maybe-"

"Bah!" the man waved his hand, "Cut to the chase, you're wasting valuable napping time." The old man hobbled forward and sat down on one of the annoyingly white armchairs. He didn't bother to keep eye contact with his visitor.

Tony was almost taken aback by the rudeness of the man, but his reaction mirrored the image Tony normally had in his mind about grumpy old geezers, so it wasn't too startling. He recovered quickly and took out the iPhone he had been given by Cienna.

"I believe this is yours," he said to the old man. Frederick looked up and took the phone, but hastily shoved it back into Tony's hand once he realized what it was.

"Take it back, I told her it was a gift," he said as he turned away. Tony raised an eyebrow, but slowly returned the phone to his jacket pocket.

"Told who it was a gift?"

"Michelle," Frederick retorted and looked back at him as if he was crazy. "Isn't she the one who sent you?"

Tony shook his head. "No, I, uh… I just found this left on a park bench somewhere. I looked up the name and address of the owner and found you." The billionaire turned and pointed at the picture he had been looking at earlier.

"Is that Michelle?"

Frederick merely grunted in response.

"She's very beautiful," he commented. But, it wasn't Michelle he was talking about; it was the young woman in the picture. Someone had to be impersonating Michelle for some reason. The only question was why? If it was Cienna and that was what she really looked like then it was obvious that she could shape-shift, so why didn't she bother to eliminate all doubt and shift to look exactly like her mother? Unless… this was an entirely different Michelle from whom he was thinking of. It wasn't that uncommon of a name.

"Do you know where I can find her so that I can return this?" he asked. Fredrick remained silent for a few moments before he turned to him.

"She travels a lot, doesn't have a permanent home. She could be anywhere by now; last time I saw her was a couple weeks ago."

Tony nodded and turned to leave, but abruptly stopped. "One last question," he said and faced Frederick once more. "What is Michelle's last name?"

Frederick's brow furrowed. "It was Kavanagh when she was married. I'm not sure if she changed her last name after the divorce. Why?"

Tony paused, his mind already going crazy with this new information. "I just needed to know so that I could find her… Thanks for your help."

With that, the billionaire turned and strode out of the building. It seemed Cienna had more to her than the thief people continued accusing her of, and Tony just landed right in the middle of whatever she was trying to do. Good question, what _was _she trying to do? Why did she need to pretend to be her mother? Tony halted his thoughts as he walked up to Happy who was standing outside of his car with an obvious smirk plastered to his face.

"Alright, time to go find our little secret agent- What?" he asked him as he noticed the smirk. Happy just shook his head and turned to open the door and get into the driver's seat.

"Nothing, you've just got a little something on your pants, that's all," he informed Tony.

Tony looked at him with confusion before he remembered the Jell-O incident.

"Oh, this? This is just the cause of crazy old geezers who like to throw food. What did you think it was from?" Tony rounded the car and got into the passenger's seat. He closed the door behind him and sent Happy an incredulous look. Happy just shrugged and put the keys into the ignition, but Tony pulled them back out. "What did you think it was from?"

A smile slowly spread across Happy's face. "Honestly when I saw that I imagined an old guy blowing chunks to get rid of you."

A look of disgust crept onto Tony's face and he threw the keys at Happy, who barely managed to catch them.

"No, that's disgusting," he complained as Happy put the keys in the ignition and started driving away. "Alright, first home so that I can change, and _then _we go find the secret agents. Assuming they left to track Cienna as Natasha previously said they were going to be doing…"

* * *

Cienna was barely able to make it to the alleyway Banner's apartment was on before she lost her power. She had used so much energy during the battle that she was surprised she hadn't collapsed much earlier, especially with the blood loss she had from the wound that Hawkeye had given her.

Cienna clenched her teeth and fell to her knees with a sudden light-headedness. Though she was close to Banner's, she really didn't think it wise to knock on his door with an arrow stuck in her side. With one had still putting pressure on the wound she closed her eyes and grabbed the arrow shaft. She pulled hard and her flesh tore from the sharp blade.

She was able to bite back a cry of pain and settled with a strained moan. She threw the arrow under a large trashcan located across the alley from her before she tried to steady her breathing. It was happening: the side effects of her powers. She needed to get to Banner's, but she couldn't in the current form she was in. She took a deep breath and concentrated on changing her features back to how they were when she had met the doctor.

More than once she nearly lost her focus and lost the changes, but she was able to barely hold on. In the end she wasn't sure if the job was even fully completed but she didn't care. A cramp was already beginning to form in her stomach from the overuse of her powers. Thankfully the apartment door was only about three-hundred feet away.

Slowly she stood and used her right arm to prop herself against the wall. She used her left hand to keep pressure on the wound but she wasn't really sure whether that would help or not, seeing as she'd already lost so much blood. Stiffly, painfully, she took a step forward and gasped at the sharp wave of pain sent shooting through her side as she moved. How did she get herself into this? She didn't have to make such a huge scene with Cahone but… Cahone.

This was his fault. She would find him, she swore it. But right then she had to concentrate on the door now two hundred and fifty feet in front of her. She could do this, and she did. Barely. She was ready to collapse when she made it, but she made it nonetheless.

She lifted her right arm and weakly rapped on the door in front of her. Shuffling could be heard in the apartment a moment later and then the locks clicked. The door opened to reveal an expectant looking Banner.

"Cienna," he said with a smile about to form on his lips. When he realized how poor of a shape she was in, however, his eyebrows furrowed in concern and he reached out to steady her as she swayed with the force of her own weight bearing down on her.

"Banner," she choked out, but couldn't finish what she was going to say. Her eyes closed without her permission and she tipped forward into his arms. This was the second time in twenty-four hours that she had passed out on his door step. Not really the reputation she liked to have but at the moment she couldn't do anything about it. She could only let herself be carried into Banner's apartment and then fall into the realm of the unconscious.

* * *

_Longest chapter yet, woo! So how did I do? Good? Bad? Review to tell me! :D  
_

_Oh, and the bar I used for Cahone is a real bar, but I'm pretty sure that everything I wrote about it isn't true in real life 'cause I've never actually been to it. Just thought I'd throw that disclaimer out there..._

_Anyways, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed my newest chapter! :)_

_-KC_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Agony coursed through Cienna's torso that felt as though some beast was ripping and tearing away at her flesh. Normally the pain wasn't this bad, normally she could handle it. But this time the pain had been so great that it tore her senses away from the depths of her mind and she dropped all of her efforts not to feel it because no matter what, she _did _feel it. So instead of lying there quietly a cry of pain escaped from her lips that felt like thunder to her ears.

It was her wound that was causing this. When she had a wound it would sting if it was being healed as though all of the pain she would go through without her powers was brought to her in one instant. It almost seemed as though she wasn't being healed, but rather that her body would somehow speed up the time that passed only on the spot that she had injured. It was just a guess; she never really took care to pay attention to her wounds as she was healing so they could be turning her skin rainbow colors and she wouldn't know about it. All she knew was that she had never had a wound this bad before and her body wasn't reacting very well to it.

She kept her eyes squeezed shut and she gripped the sheets of the bed she was in so hard that she could have sworn she felt the material rip. Or maybe that was from her nails digging into her skin. Her breaths were coming out heavy, staggered, and short. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to make it through this. She was sweating and she felt as though she was in a haze of poisonous gas that caused searing pain every time she breathed in. The only thing she could comprehend was the unbearable pain that was stabbing at, not just her wound now, but her whole body.

And then it was as if an angel had been sent to help her.

She heard a voice. It was deep and soothing, and she was pretty sure it was telling her that everything was going to be okay. She felt a prick in her arm that most definitely wasn't from her powers working over time, and then it felt as though a liquid was being pushed into her blood stream. She wanted to flinch away but she just didn't have the strength. Suddenly the pain became sharper and she tilted her head back with a strained cry.

Maybe this wasn't an angel; maybe it was more of a curse. But then a moment later, the pain ebbed away.

It wasn't steady but soon enough her breathing returned to - somewhat - normal. She released the sheets she had held captive and was finally able to relax on the mattress underneath her. She wasn't sure what compelled her to do it, but when she saw a figure on the edge of her vision moving past the bed her hand shot out from where it rested at her side. The figure stopped and turned to look at her.

"Don't go," she murmured to the faceless figure. There was a pause before something removed her hand from the wrist she had caught and for a moment she thought that he was going to leave her. She just about panicked, but then a strong hand wrapped itself around her own.

"I'm here," the voice replied softly.

For some reason, that was all Cienna needed. She once again fell into darkness but the pain never returned. She thought that the warmth that enclosed her hand and sometimes found its way to her forehead was warding it away. At least, she'd never felt anything like it before when she was hurt, so what else could it be? She didn't care. She wasn't hurting anymore and at that moment, that was all that mattered.

* * *

"You _what_?" the voice over the phone barked out. Cahone grimaced. Even though there was a voice disguiser attached to the line on the other end and the voice sounded like a robot, he could hear the anger coming from it.

"I had to leave during the fight because two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents-"

"I heard you the first time," the voice interrupted, "I'm just having a hard time believing that you actually had the nerve to run away scared because a couple of petty foot soldiers showed up."

"They weren't just foot soldiers," Cahone said with as much control in his voice as he could muster. "I'm telling you that if I did anything to arouse suspicion I would have been shot and killed on the spot."

"Then why didn't you use the gift that I gave you? It isn't just a toy, you know. If you're ever in a predicament like that again then-"

"That's the thing," Cahone cut off the voice. "If I would have done anything inhuman then the agents would have known who I was and would have been able to identify me in future instances. My usefulness would have run dry. I think you see what I'm getting at here."

"If you're so worried about being hunted down then get rid of the problem, Martin. Kill them; it's not that hard."

"It is if the two agents happened to be Hawkeye and Black Widow," Cahone very nearly spit out. There was a pause on the other line before his boss gave him a response.

"So, because of some rumors floating about, you dropped everything and gave up every last bit of hope that we had of catching Blitzen without alerting anyone to the Organization's existence. Is that right? She doesn't trust you anymore; there is no way that you'll be able to get close to her again. You screwed the whole thing over."

Cahone had to take in a breath to kill the ego that threatened to get the best of him.

"It won't happen again," he managed to say without making it sound sarcastic.

"You're right; it won't. Want to know why? Because I'm going to dispose of you."

Cahone opened his mouth to protest but the connection was cut as his boss hung up. He sat there in his white Mercedes on the edge of a busy road for quite some time before he pulled his cell phone away from his ear and shut it. He rubbed his chin and stared at the people milling about before, quite suddenly, his hands shot out in front of him and he struck the edge of the steering wheel.

"Damn that woman," he snarled.

* * *

Once she hung up, the Mistress, as people called her, slowly put the phone down on the small, cherry brown table next to the black leather armchair she was seated in. Her black, long-sleeved dress and black hair that fell across her shoulders made her almost perfectly blend in to the surrounding leather and if someone merely glanced in her direction they might not have seen her. The only things that stood out were her ice blue eyes and her, not unhealthily, pale skin.

She sat emotionless and unmoving with her legs crossed and one of her black high heels threatening to slide off her raised foot as she stared out of the large glass window in front of her and across the rooftops of the other smaller skyscrapers of New York until her eyes came to rest upon Stark Tower that stood only a few stories taller than the building she was in now. She might have tried to make the Organization's HQ taller than the famous Tony Stark's, but that would cause a lot of unwanted attention. At least, more than they already had.

There was a quiet ruffle of material from the back of the office she was currently occupying as her body guard walked forward so that he was directly behind the chair.

"Are you sure you want to get rid of Cahone?" he asked in a monotone, not to accuse or question, but to make sure that was truly what the Mistress wanted. Often times she said one thing and meant the exact opposite.

The Mistress smiled at the giant of a man without taking her eyes off of the city. No doubt his dark eyes hid the uncertainty that he was feeling.

"Not yet, Connor," she replied and reached up to curl a lock of her hair around her finger. "But I needed to instill some fear into him so that he doesn't try that little stunt again."

Connor nodded and his slicked-back brown hair shifted a little from the sudden force of it. He rarely ever moved his head except to look around. He turned and was about to move back to his position on the far side of the room when the Mistress spoke again.

"Tell me, Connor, what is your opinion on this Blitzen character?" she asked with a voice that would have sounded detached to anyone else, but Connor knew different. The Mistress was evaluating her prey. He returned to facing the chair before him and clasped his hands in front of him.

"I think she will stop at nothing to get what she wants and if that takes the Organization down then she doesn't care," he replied easily. "I believe that if left alone she could become a much larger problem than we first suspected."

The Mistress slowly nodded and a smile crept across her face.

"So, if we can get her to go against S.H.I.E.L.D. then we might be killing two birds with one stone, correct?"

Connor couldn't help but let his lips twitch upward.

"So the saying goes, Mistress."

* * *

_Uwah, this chapter is so short! T^T I couldn't bring myself to write anything after the last part though 'cause the effectiveness just wouldn't be the same. So~ You have to deal with it~ I'll try to write an extra long chapter next time to make up for it, though!  
_

_Please review!_

_-KC_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Clint knelt to the ground of a musty alleyway next to a large dumpster and scowled at the rotting stench that entered his nose. He honestly wondered why everything that he needed to retrieve on missions ended up being in some sewer or rotting pit or anything of the like.

After Tony had returned to his tower from whatever he was doing Clint set out to find Blitzen and according to his tracker, this was where the arrow was supposed to be. It didn't take long for his eyes to lock onto the small red light that steadily blinked on and off and he reached under the green, chipping metal of the trashcan to fish out the arrow. Once he had it in his grasp his eyes traveled around the small space until he saw the pool of blood a few feet in front of the dumpster.

He stood and walked over to the pool to see if Blitzen had left any further signs of where she had gone and was relieved to see that a thin trail of blood continued on from that spot. He followed it slowly and carefully avoided any line of sight from the windows along the walls in case the criminal was watching for anyone who might pass through.

As he traveled along the wall a voice sounded in his ear from the comm. system he and Natasha had set up for the mission.

"You see anything?" Natasha asked.

"I'm following a blood trail right now," he answered back quietly. That was all she needed for the time being so she remained quiet to make it easier for Clint to concentrate on the task at hand.

The trail of blood stopped at about 300ft away from where it began. Blitzen had apparently found shelter in an apartment, as the trail seemed to continue on into a chipping green door. Clint canvased the area around the door and found a small window about his height off the ground whose curtains were not closed.

He stood next to it and slowly peered into the window to make sure Blitzen really was there. The apartment was cramped and messy and contained hardly any furnishing as though it was just a temporary hole up. Too bad; he had hoped that he would find Blitzen's official hideout. It would be a lot easier to watch her from there, but he could make this work.

His eyes moved from the floor of the dining room he was apparently staring into and over to the other side of the room where a bed was currently inhabited by who he assumed to be Blitzen. Her hair was different, along with the features of her face that he was able to make out, but he had already established that she was able to shape shift so he had no trouble believing it was her in the covers. By the way her chest was moving ever so slightly, Clint decided that she was sleeping and he was safe to continue to watch for a little longer. There were supplies next to the bed that looked like the tools a doctor would use and Clint guessed that Blitzen had merely traveled there to seek medical help.

A flicker of movement in the corner of his eye alerted him and he jolted away from the window to avoid being seen.

He waited for a few moments before he slowly leaned forward to see who it was that had just entered the room from the hallway. The man inside had his back turned to the window and was leaning over Blitzen, to check her temperature from what it looked like to Clint. He had a nice-looking, long-sleeved shirt and slacks that didn't seem to fit the mangled appearance of the apartment. His hair was dark brown and curly and seemed strangely familiar.

Clint watched as the man pulled back the sheet that was earlier covering Blitzen's body to reveal bloodied bandages wrapped around the wound Clint had caused with his arrow. The man unwrapped the bandages and Clint rationally thought that he would see a large hole in Blitzen's side, but what was there made his jaw drop a little. Or, maybe it should be what _wasn't _there was what made his jaw drop.

Instead of the mangled flesh that should have been left behind from the wound that his arrow would have made there was nothing but perfect skin with a few blood stains from wounds that were no longer there. Not a scratch nor scar showed through. That was just brilliant; on top of being able to shape shift, Blitzen was able to recover from her wounds at an inhuman speed.

The man who had tended to Blitzen's wounds turned and Clint was just about to pull away from the window again, but the glint of the glasses the man was wearing made him pause. His eyes widened as he realized who it was and he quickly pressed his back to the brick wall of the building.

"Holy shit," he said after a moment of taking in what he had just seen. Wasn't that man supposed to be back in India or something?

"What is it Clint?" Natasha asked over the comm. Clint stood and looked around for a building with a good view of the apartment's door. This new information was certainly alarming but he wasn't going to fall down on his job; he needed a good vantage point where he could keep track of anyone entering and exiting the apartment Blitzen was in.

"We may have a slight problem," he informed his partner. There weren't many buildings that had a clear line of sight, but there was one that looked like it might work and that was enough. He began walking toward it to see if he could get onto the roof.

"What problem?" Natasha asked more firmly. Clint glanced over his shoulder as he continued walking toward the building.

"Blitzen isn't alone," he began slowly. Natasha didn't seem amused at the way Clint was avoiding the question. He paused to wait for the cars in the street as they passed him.

"How is that a problem?" Natasha demanded."We'll just take out whoever is helping her."

"Yeah, normally we would do that, but that might not be a smart idea with this particular person," Clint said and jogged across the road.

"Why not, Clint? Tell me what is wrong here."

Clint cleared his throat and looked up at the building. It was a pale color and had the American flag flying high. Above the entrance were some gold letters that said "Bank of America." Great, so he wouldn't be allowed up on the roof if he asked; he would have to settle with staying outside of the law on this one. That would be if he even could get onto the roof from the outside. He might have to go up on the inside if there weren't enough edges to get a hold of.

He walked to the alley next to the building and scanned the walls for anything he could use to climb the wall.

"The, uh, doctor who helped Blitzen with her wounds isn't a stranger…" he slowly trailed off as his eyes rested on a metal pole that traveled from the bottom of the building all the way to the roof. If it was sturdy enough that he could definitely use it.

He could imagine the frustrated look Natasha had on her face as he studied the wall in front of him. But, how was he supposed to tell her that one of their greatest and most trusted allies (to them, not S.H.I.E.L.D. Banner definitely hated S.H.I.E.L.D.) was currently with the woman they were trying to bring in for breaking and entering into countless top-class security strongholds that may or may not collectively have enough information to bring down the very organization that kept them from having to deal with every damn ghost from their past that wanted to haunt them?

"Clint," Natasha growled. Clint sighed at the expected reaction and walked to stand next to the pole.

"It's Banner, Natasha," he finally said. He wasn't surprised that there was a pause on the line after he said this. He used the small amount of silence that he would get to focus on climbing up the side of the wall.

The pole was sturdy and he was able to scale it in just over a minute. Once he reached the top he walked to the edge that had a straight line of vision to the apartment Blitzen was in and just crouched there in wait for Natasha's response.

"Do you think he knows who she is?" she asked finally. Clint shrugged as his eyes pinpointed the exact door he had just walked away from.

"I would assume not; he's not one to help criminals. I'm not sure why he's even in New York and Fury didn't even tell me that he was. It could just be that while he was visiting someone he found her injured and being the doctor that he is he helped her without questioning who she is."

"I hope so," Natasha replied, "I don't want to have him getting in the way with us catching Blitzen."

Clint raised an eyebrow and began to take into memory every escape route that he could see leading away from the apartment. "So, this isn't a scope out anymore? You want to bring her in?" he inquired.

"Yes, and we'd better do it fast. If Banner stays with her too long there's no telling what lies she'd plant in his brain. She's cunning, from what it seems, so it's entirely possible that she will pit him against us."

Clint frowned a little; he didn't entirely agree that their synopsis on Blitzen should be decided so easily. Sure, she attacked them pretty brutally earlier, but when Clint was sent to take out Natasha, she did the same. There was always a chance, especially with what he saw in Blitzen's eyes. It almost mirrored the small flame of hope that he had seen in his partner's every time he looked at her.

His mind always seemed to wander back to when he had awakened with Natasha at his side after she had knocked Loki out of his head. She had said that she had red on her ledger and that she wanted to wipe it out; that same longing was in Cienna's eyes. It was different, had a few dissimilar swirling clouds of emotions, but it was there nonetheless.

Clint blinked with surprise as he realized he just thought of the criminal by her real name. He always thought of his targets as just that: targets. But when he started forming attachments like thinking that there was actually a likeable person behind an alias or name… well, he went against his orders and didn't care in the slightest.

"No," he said finally. He could almost hear Natasha as she stiffened on the other side of the line.

"What?" she asked with a little disbelief entering her voice. Clint and she rarely ever had contradictory thoughts on something so simple, but when they did it never turned out well.

"I said no," Clint repeated.

"I heard that," his partner hissed. "_Why?_"

Clint paused. In all honesty he didn't know why. He never knew why; he didn't know when he had made the call not to kill Natasha and he sure as hell didn't know now.

"She reminds me of you," he said. It wasn't a lie but at the same time it wasn't exactly true; he just had no idea how to put it so that Natasha would understand.

"Damn it, Barton, if you're getting attached to her over some stupid sentiment-"

"It's not sentiment," Clint interrupted. "Not exactly. When I held you at bow point and looked into your eyes I knew that there was something that everyone else was failing to see. In the split second that I looked at Cienna that same feeling welled up inside me. I don't know if what I saw was something bad or good, but we won't find out if we take her back to base and let cold-hearted interrogators try to pry her open for all the little goodies she'd held secret for all her life."

"That is the very definition of sentiment," Natasha growled. "You used her real name. You never do that if a target has an alias."

"That's the thing," Clint said firmly, "I don't think she's just a target anymore. I'm not bringing her in until I know that she either has it out for S.H.I.E.L.D. or seriously wants to harm people without a reason."

There was silence on the line for a moment before Natasha replied with a stiff, "Fine."

That she agreed at all put a slight smile on Clint's face. She trusted him enough to go along with this even when she didn't agree with it herself and it made him grateful that it was her who was assigned this mission with him and not some stuck-up, rookie operative that knew nothing other than the rule book. Because that was what he was getting recently and it bothered him to the point where he had at one instant considered ditching one of his missions just to tag along on Natasha's. He probably would have done that in years past, but he had a little more self-control now.

It was at least an hour before a thought suddenly occurred to Clint. He knew Tony wasn't one to sit still so he had to be doing something, but he didn't hear the billionaire on the other line as he thought sure he would and Natasha made no mention of him. He knew that the billionaire would be angry if he found out, but honestly Clint didn't feel like he could turn his eyes away from Stark for more than a few minutes. It had already been an hour and a half since he had seen the man so there was no reason he couldn't have disappeared by now.

"Where is Tony?" he asked Natasha. His eyes continually scanned the streets for any potential threats but constantly bounced back to the door of the apartment holding Cienna as well.

"In his play room messing with his toys," Natasha replied. She wasn't surprised by his sudden voice; in fact she was completely used to it. There were many times on missions Clint had to remain completely silent for hours on end and she had to sit on the other side of the comm. system and listen to him breathing.

Clint nodded and believed her with the entirety of his being until he saw a rather familiar-looking silver Acura NSX. He stared as it cruised down the road and eventually stopped not too far away from Cienna's apartment. The door opened and out stepped an arrogant, cocky bastard who had just _played _two deadly assassins that _loved_ to hold grudges.

"Are you sure about that?" Clint asked without hiding the spark of frustration in his voice. It wasn't anger; yet. Natasha seemed to hear something else in his voice as well because she gave a defeated sigh and Clint guessed she sunk back into whatever chair she was currently sitting on.

"He's there, isn't he?" she asked. It was rhetorical; she knew the answer. Clint still replied.

"Yep, and he's walking toward the door this instant," he informed as his steel eyes followed the billionaire that seemed to find it impossible to walk like a normal man. Chin up, long strides, smiled as though he was continually showered with girls, cash, and fame… Oh, wait. That was the definition of Tony right there, that statement had no "as ifs" in it.

"Damn bastard just compromised this whole mission," Natasha growled.

"Maybe not," Clint responded with a hopeful look as Tony knocked on the door and it opened a crack to show a very surprised-looking doctor. "Maybe not," he repeated unnecessarily and focused intently on gauging the reactions of the two men below. Perhaps Tony was actually doing something to help…

* * *

Silence. Sweet, heavenly silence. There was many a day that Cienna would awaken to some large crash or a gun pointed in her face, but not this one. She opened her eyes to find herself staring at the same ceiling she had looked up at the first time she collapsed outside Banner's door, and the only thing she heard was nothing. It was rather pleasant.

Until, of course, the memories of the day before returned to her brain. If she were any other person she would have grabbed the sheets and pulled them over her head so that she wouldn't have to deal with the utter failure and misery she felt. She would have just laid there until Banner offered her some ice cream and then she would eat a whole pint. However, she wasn't any other person so she sighed and pushed herself into a sitting position.

Yesterday turned out completely horrible. Not only had she found out that one of the vital pieces of information she needed for the cure was inside a building that was truly impossible for a normal person to get into, but she had lost the single most important contact she had bothered to keep over her years of playing outside the law. And then, to top it off, two mysterious individuals dressed in black pointed their damn weapons at her and caused her to loose Cahone and one of them even shot her in the stomach with an _arrow. _Who in their right mind used arrows in the modern day anymore? Apparently only someone who went by the idiotic name of _Hawkeye._ At the very least, his partner "Black Widow" had the common sense to use real guns.

Then again, who was she to be criticizing? The Hawk _did _land a successful blow on her. And her own alias was something as stupid as Blitzen. Really, who decided to nickname her after a reindeer of all the damn creatures in the world? The other two at least got to be named after something a little more deadly and less fat-guy-in-a-red-suit oriented.

Suddenly she took a deep breath and rubbed her face with her hands. She was arguing with herself about a nickname. How childish was she becoming? This past twenty-four hours was certainly anything but her best. She needed food. Food would help her, definitely.

However, just as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, an unwanted doctor walked in quietly from the hall that led to his room. Don't get her wrong, Cienna was absolutely grateful that Banner was helping her so much, but she just didn't want _anyone_ there at the moment. She wasn't ready to deal with any living creatures of any kind after all the crap she went through yesterday. She just wanted to indulge in some much-needed calories and replenish the energy that she had run dry with all of her self-recovery problems. Not to mention all of the questions he would ask; they would probably be never ending. Damn.

Despite all of the negative thoughts in her head, Cienna smiled wearily.

"Hey," she said quietly as the friendly doctor stood kind of awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Currently, though he wasn't going to show it, there was only one thing Bruce had running through his head: _Did she remember what happened before she blacked out the second time? _He hoped not. He had only known her for less than forty-eight hours but he already knew for certain she wasn't one for unnecessary touching or feeling of emotions. She made that completely clear the moment she opened her mouth. Instead of making a fool out of himself and standing there with a question that he didn't want to ask, Banner returned Cienna's smile.

"You're awake," he observed. Cienna rolled her eyes and her so obviously faked smile disappeared.

"And you're Sherlock, nice to meet you," she replied sarcastically. Banner grimaced.

"Lovely to see you, too," he mumbled and shifted his gaze to the floor in front of him. Cienna ignored the hurt comment.

"Do you happen to have any type of energy drinks?" she asked as innocently as possible. Banner raised an eyebrow and met her curious gaze.

"No and even if I did I wouldn't give it to you."

Cienna's brow furrowed. "Why not?"

"You're injured and energy drinks will just make it worse," he replied easily. Cienna hated doctors. She really did.

"I'm fine," Cienna insisted. "But I need energy. Badly."

Banner's quirkiness disappeared and he slid his hands into his pockets as his eyes darkened, if that was possible. His eyes were already next to black. Cienna inwardly groaned and raised a finger before the doctor before he could say anything.

"Don't," she ordered. "Not now. I need food first."

Banner just looked at her and she couldn't help but sigh. Why was he so damn innocent and… and she didn't even know what, but he was the only person in her life recently who was able to penetrate the walls she had put around herself. It happened the first time they met as well and it was extremely unnerving. Why she chose here of all the places to fall from the sky was completely beyond her capacity of understanding, but it happened and she currently hated herself for it. On top of _all the other things _she hated herself for.

"Banner, I'll answer all of your questions," she said finally, "but like I said I need food."

It was then that Bruce actually noticed the weariness behind Cienna's eyes and how pale her skin seemed. She had been perfectly healthy just minutes before when he had come to check on her, but now it was as though she was stricken with a case of pneumonia or something. She was ignoring it, too, that made her seem either really scary or just plain stupid. He didn't hesitate to turn around and search his pantry for something that she could consume. Nothing, nothing, and more nothing. Canned split peas? He really needed to do the shopping more often.

"I don't care what it is as long as it's high-calorie," Cienna said from behind him. Apparently she didn't even trust him to look through his supply of food without having to look down his back. Walter. She was Walter's reincarnation before death. Absolutely creepy. Suddenly he frowned and looked back at her.

"Not to be rude or anything," he said slowly and closed the pantry door, "but aren't women such as yourself usually trying to eat _less _calorie oriented food?"

Cienna just looked at him. "I don't care if you give me a fried stick of butter," she said and ignored his question. "I won't stop searching until I get _something _and I could very possibly collapse once again in the process."

Bruce stood there for a moment with honest bewilderment on his face, but he soon promptly turned around and opened up his fridge. There were only two things he kept in very high supply due to his absolute love of them: Coke and croissants. Both high calorie.

He removed a box of the delicate French bread and grabbed two cans of Coke. He closed the fridge and moved to stand next to Cienna who looked at the box with a raised eyebrow. Before she could ask, Bruce plopped the box next to her and held one of the Cokes out to her.

"Dig in," he said.

Cienna took the offered drink and tentatively opened the box on the bed as Bruce sat on the other side of it and opened his own Coke. When she discovered that a dozen buttery French delicacies were spread out in the cardboard her mouth literally started to water. She hadn't had croissants in _years. _Part of it was because she had no money but another part was that it was tradition for her to eat those with someone from her family. Whether it was Casey, her mom, or even Walter it didn't matter. While Banner wasn't exactly family, he would have to do because now that the sweet aroma of the bread filtered into her nostrils Cienna couldn't hold back any longer.

She grabbed one of the crescent-shaped rolls and bit into it with a completely unintentional moan of delight. It was thousands of times better than she remembered, and she honestly didn't care what the doctor sitting next to her thought anymore so she didn't bother to look at him. It was a good thing, too, because Bruce couldn't help but become a little nervous at the sound she just made.

It had been a while since he had contact with any women who weren't in the sick bed so in general he felt off around Cienna, but after that? He had to busy himself with drinking his Coke as though he paid no attention to his guest's delight in the croissants. He loved them too, but… not quite that much…

He looked up from his Coke after very nearly choking half of it down to get his mind off of Cienna who had since eaten two of the croissants and started on her third. He almost pouted—he loved those things and they were really expensive—but figured that if not for her he wouldn't eat all of them anyway. Costco was a tricky little store, always dragging him into buying larger portions than necessary; why did he let it happen? He threw it out. Every time. Maybe it was better to just let Cienna have at it.

He took his own croissant and ate it slowly as Cienna finished her third and reached her hand in for another. Okay, now Bruce was a little worried. He himself loved the treats but too much was unhealthy especially for an injured person, if that's what you could call her. She didn't have wounds anymore, but her skin was a deathly white… He looked at her closely and noticed that the color had since returned to her arms and face. She got over it that fast? He didn't even know what "it" was. It was there and then it was gone.

Finally, when Cienna reached down for a fifth serving of the delicious bread, Bruce drew the line. She was going to give herself a heart attack if she ate even one more of those things. He slammed the box closed before the hungry beast of a woman could get her hands on another. The result was a death glare that in all honesty rivaled Natasha's. Good thing Bruce was really good at dealing with those.

"You eat too much," Bruce explained as kindly as possible.

"I have my reasons," Cienna responded as she tried to pry the lid open from under his hand. Instead, Bruce set his Coke down on the bedside table and whisked the box of bread away from Cienna's prying fingers and into the fridge.

"Reasons like what? A death wish?" he asked as he completed his task. Cienna glowered but popped open the Coke she had earlier received and focused on chugging down its contents instead of accidentally on purpose sending a lightning bolt through the controlling doctor's back.

When Bruce saw her he sighed; Walter. Again, Walter. He could see the old man chugging his soda down as fast as he could and then replenishing it just as fast. The resemblance in his and Cienna's actions was very persuading, but there was still no way that the Cienna Kavanagh that he knew from when he was friends with Walter had changed so much. Unless she wasn't really who she said she was and she was just a really good actor; he'd dealt with those before.

"Are you really Walter's daughter?" Bruce asked suddenly. Cienna very nearly choked on the liquid she was pouring down her throat. It took her a couple of seconds to recover and respond.

"Of course, what a silly question," she said dismissively and was about to take another drink of the soda, but Bruce's voice stopped her.

"You look nothing like them," he said quietly and leaned on the counter that was behind him. Cienna tried to search his gaze but his eyes refused to meet or even come close to hers, so she dropped it.

"I know," she replied as emotionless as possible, "I haven't looked like my parents for a while."

The walls around Cienna were again perfectly intact, Bruce noticed. He finally looked up from staring at the floor and scrutinized his guest with as much kindness and genuine worry as he could offer. It was a good thing that Cienna was now looking away or her walls would be built up ten fold; she didn't need anyone to be worrying about her especially when she had just met them.

"Does it have to do with how your wounds heal so quickly?" Banner finally asked when he gave up trying to read Cienna's face. She simply nodded which prompted the doctor to raise an eyebrow. "Well?"

Cienna closed her eyes and remained silent for a long time. In fact, Bruce was just about to say that she didn't have to tell him when she finally responded.

"Plastic surgery, hair dye; the works," she lied. Bruce for the life of him still couldn't read her. He was never good at doing that in the first place but with Cienna it was so completely impossible that he was ready to try throwing something at her to see if he could get a reaction. The only reason he guessed that she was lying was the fact that she didn't show anything to him; she had completely closed herself off. Instead of pushing his luck, he just nodded.

"Okay," he said. Cienna almost smiled. She almost _laughed, _for crying out loud. Either Bruce was such a big idiot that he completely forgot about her wounds disappearing or she was so naïve that she honestly thought that was possible. This whole situation was just so out of the norm for her that she couldn't quite handle it as professionally as she would if she were in some rusty, old output that she was able to find to lodge in for a night. No, she was with a doctor who knew her father which was more that she was willing to let _anyone _know about her past.

Now she didn't think it was such a good idea to return here, but at the same time she could have taken a lot longer to heal herself without proper medical care and that simply meant more pain. She just didn't know what to think anymore. Bruce was the very type of person she tried to avoid her whole life; kind, caring, selfless. All he wanted was to help, she could feel it. But her knowledge of life told her that there were some sort of strings attached, and that just hurt. It reawakened the reality that no one on earth was truly selfless enough to help her or anyone without asking something in return. She hated that, but she had to live with it.

"You still have something on your mind," Cienna said carefully without looking away from the almost empty soda can in her hand. Bruce froze and looked up. Was she talking about his curiosity concerning her wounds or… something else?

Before either of them could say anything, a rather loud and annoying knock sounded at the door. Cienna stiffened and her eyes shot to Bruce with sudden hatred. Did he just help her and then call the police to turn her in? Was he that type of person?

But the way that Bruce's eyes shot up to hers with genuine surprise eliminated that possibility so Cienna calmed. He wasn't even expecting anyone, which was good. She was still safe to stay there. Bruce held her gaze for a moment longer before he turned and opened the door as far as the chain would let it.

"You know, you should really clean up those blood stains or someone might be a little suspicious," a threateningly familiar voice said from outside before Bruce was able to utter any greetings. Cienna became rock solid and crushed the can of Coke in her can without realizing it. Bruce looked back at her with concern and she just glared over his shoulder at the billionaire she couldn't see. Thankfully, he hadn't noticed her yet so she took to hiding in the corner away from his visibility and looked through the window to confirm her suspicions. She placed the disfigured can on the window sill as her eyes studied the billionaire's figure. How the hell did he find her so fast? She was the one who was supposed to contact him, not the other way around.

"I'm a certified doctor," Bruce replied casually when his gaze returned to Tony. "I think I'll be fine."

Tony just raised an eyebrow and stared him for a few moments before he tapped the chain on the door.

"Do you mind?" he asked.

"Patient privacy," Bruce said a little too quickly. "I'm sorry but I can't while I'm treating someone."

Tony paused and moved so that he could see into the room a little better and shook his head.

"You hurt me, Bruce," he said and clutched his hands to his heart. "There's no one there."

"Bathroom," he said bluntly. Tony again raised an eyebrow and motioned to the blood stains.

"With that much blood loss? I don't think so," Tony denied Bruce's excuse and would probably continue doing the same with every single one the doctor could think of. So, he just didn't bother anymore.

"What is it that you need?" Bruce finally asked. It wasn't that he didn't like Tony, on the contrary. They had become amazing friends, but the way Cienna completely froze in shock and maybe even a little fear when she heard him made the kind doctor question what Tony wanted. He certainly wasn't there to speak to Bruce about anything.

"Actually, I was wondering if you could give this to your friend that you're keeping hidden," Tony said and held up an iPhone. Bruce looked at the device warily and Tony couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry; I didn't rig it with a bomb. Not my style. If I want her dead then I will flamboyantly challenge her to a duel either on screen or by shooting at her as she's walking down the street, and you know it."

Bruce didn't have to look into his friend's eyes for sincerity because he knew full well that he was telling the truth. He gently took the phone and waited for Tony to say anything else. It didn't take too long.

"Well, it was good to see you, but I have got to fly," Tony said with a wave. Bruce wasn't even able to respond before the billionaire had disappeared around the corner. The doctor stood there with a befuddled frown on his lips for a few moments and when he finally closed the door he turned around to come face to face with Cienna.

He was caught completely off guard and took a step back to run right into the door knob behind him. He grunted a bit as it dug into his back, but otherwise remained silent. Cienna was a freaking _ninja. _He hadn't heard a single sound come from her and he had been on the run for a long time so his senses were fine-tuned for possible threats that could bring the Other Guy out.

Cienna seemed not to notice his surprise and simply grabbed the phone Tony had given him right out of his hand and walked back over to the bed as she unlocked it. Bruce had to stand there a few moments to get control of his heartbeat. Now he wasn't really sure whether or not it was a good idea to keep someone like Cienna around; she could be extremely detrimental to his mental health.

As the phone clicked open, the notes app popped up that had a message written on it that was most likely from Tony. Cienna almost deleted it immediately, but she thought better of it and decided to read the typed words.

_Hey, Buttercup!_

Off to a great start, Tony, Cienna growled to herself. She ignored it and continued to read.

_I don't really have much to say other than point: me. Found you. :)_

Cienna stared down at the short message with disbelief. Was that really the only reason he had come to give her the damn phone? To show her that he could? Damn if that man didn't piss her off…

She deleted the message with a scowl and shoved the phone into her pocket. At the very least he didn't blast down the door and whisk her away to prison; that meant her plan might have worked. He might be on her side. But then again, it would take more than some sob story from her grandfather to get him to truly be with her. She was in for one heck of a long and tiring Ping-Pong session if she wanted the billionaire's help.

Suddenly something occurred to her and she looked up at Bruce who was trying to look inconspicuous as he grabbed Cienna's discarded Coke can from the window.

"How the hell do you know Tony?" she demanded. Bruce froze in the middle of his walk through the room and turned to look at Cienna sheepishly.

"I was kind of wondering the same thing," he admitted. Cienna's eyes narrowed.

"I asked first," she said childishly. It was the same thing they did the first time they had tried to ask each other questions. Bruce shrugged and placed his free hand in his pocket.

"We're both well-renowned scientists. We simply take interest in one another's work," he said easily.

Cienna didn't buy it. Not one bit.

"You're a well-renowned scientist?" she asked with a scoff. "And I'm a flying pig."

Bruce couldn't help but give her a lop-sided smile. Walter used to use that saying _all _the time. The most funny pat was, though, that he was pretty sure she _could _fly and the way she was shoving the croissants down her throat not minutes ago did make her seem an awful lot like a pig. He would never voice that to her, though. He liked his head firmly placed on his shoulders as it was and he was almost certain that Cienna would change that if she so desired.

"I work with anti-electron collisions and gamma radiation," Bruce explained. Cienna paused and had to admit that most normal twenty-five year olds wouldn't have even remembered hearing those words from college and Bruce had to be somewhere around forty.

"Fine," she said almost reluctantly. "And I know him because of my father."

Complete lie. Absolutely one-hundred percent not true. She was pretty damn sure Walter had never once spoken to Tony in his entire life. Bruce didn't know that, though.

Something suddenly changed in Bruce and he nervously stared at the ground in front of him. A dreading feeling crept through Cienna and she really didn't want to know what he was thinking. She would refrain from asking and hopefully the bashful doctor wouldn't work up enough courage to ask her himself.

"Speaking of your father," Bruce said eventually. Cienna mentally shot a bullet through herself for bringing him up.

"I don't need your condolences," Cienna abruptly interrupted before Bruce could finish his sentence. "The man was a bastard and he got what was coming to him."

Bruce looked up with shock and even a small amount of horror. Did he just hear that come out of Cienna's mouth? The last he remembered she was practically obsessed with how amazing she thought her father was. Now she was condemning him? What?

"I'm not sure I understand," Bruce finally said. He was good at hiding his feelings, because Cienna couldn't hear any of the dismay in his voice that she had seen flash across his face.

"You wanted to say sorry that he worked himself into his own grave, right? Well, I'm _not_ sorry."

Bruce just stared at her with a hollow expression. Walter was dead? But… when? How? Why didn't he hear of this?

"How long ago?" Bruce asked quietly. His gaze didn't move from Cienna's and suddenly she felt a little squeamish under the intense stare. She didn't visibly react, though.

"Sixteen years," she replied with surprise. How did he not know that if he was Walter's friend?

Banner grimaced and finally looked away. A whole sixteen years had gone by and he didn't even have the slightest inkling that Walter had run himself into the ground. Even worse: his own daughter didn't seem to give a rat's ass about it. She even sounded _glad _that he was dead.

"What happened?" he questioned. Cienna could hardly hear the words that seemed barely more than a breath, but they were there nonetheless.

She clenched her fists. What happened? What _happened_? She didn't even want to think about it. If she thought about it then she would probably break down the entire building she was in with rage. She hated Walter. She didn't care that he was dead. She wanted to kill him _herself._ And yet, she answered the doctor truthfully and even gently. If Bruce hadn't known about Walter's death, after all, he would be pained if she continued to beat him down and for some reason she didn't want to cause Bruce any pain. She _never _cared about anyone else's feelings before. What was wrong with her?

"He did some things that caused Michelle to divorce him and then after a while of nothing but work he became so devastated that he drove himself into sickness. He didn't recover…"

Bruce looked up at Cienna with astonishment and just stared. Cienna was a damn blank sheet of paper. He couldn't read her for the life of him but something about the way she said that and looked away told him that she wasn't angry at all; she was hurt. Her heart was bleeding and she had no one to comfort or help her throughout the years. She didn't let anyone know about her pain and she covered it up with anger because honestly, what else could she do?

"Cienna," he began, but he wasn't able to finish the statement because she looked at him and her anger was back.

"Don't," she said. "I'm not some damsel in distress and I don't need you to try and solve my life problems. I'm fine."

Bruce held her gaze for what seemed an eternity before he finally nodded. He just simply _nodded. _If Cienna wasn't so prone to keep her emotions hidden from anyone then she would have gaped at him like he just grew two heads and a cat's tail. No one ever let her be if they knew her father and what happened to him. They would keep prying until Cienna finally broke down and screamed at them with frustration. Her problems were her own and _no one _seemed to understand that. Except Bruce.

She looked away and suddenly didn't know what to say. What was there to say? She wasn't going to offer up any information. She couldn't leave because despite how tough she made herself seem she was absolutely exhausted and could very possibly collapse in the middle of the sidewalk and sleep for the next nine hours. At the same time, she didn't want to ask Banner if she could stay at his house for the next few days because that was just plain rude. And she also still couldn't believe that he had just dropped everything. He might just come back later and begin asking questions again and that would make her wish that she didn't stay with him.

"So," Bruce broke the silence between them. "I realize you may not want to answer this, but… what was it that caused that wound?"

Cienna stiffened. More questions. She would answer this one, it _was _a perfectly understandable curiosity, and if he dared to begin to pry again she would just get up and walk out. That was final.

"An arrow," she answered truthfully.

There was a pause as Banner immediately thought of the archer who was on the Avenger's Initiative with him and Tony and he suddenly wondered just how many of them Cienna knew. And he also wondered how many of them were targeting her because she wouldn't have gotten shot unless Clint wanted to do it, but why would he want to? What was Cienna hiding? He could have asked these questions and many more, but he didn't.

"Do you need a place to stay?" he asked instead. Cienna's eyes flew to his with shock and for a moment she just stared.

"I, uh…" she stopped and furrowed her brow. "Why do you ask?"

Bruce shrugged. "I figure you're in trouble but you're not going to admit it and you're not going to ask if you can stay on your own so its either I offer or I send you back out there so you get shot again."

Cienna blinked. She honestly didn't think Banner was _that_ intelligent. She felt a little bad for underestimating him.

"Oh, well…" Cienna stopped and just nodded. Her words just weren't working. Bruce was just downright _crazy. _He was asking her of all people if she needed a place to stay and if she didn't she would have electrocuted him right then and there simply from being annoyed that he didn't think she could take care of herself.

"Alright, then," Bruce smiled and finally finished throwing the crushed can of soda away. A moment later he disappeared down the hall. Cienna raised an eyebrow as she watched him. That was certainly an interesting way to end a conversation. When she found a backpack flying toward her, however, she guessed the chat wasn't actually over. She caught the backpack and only needed to look at it for a moment to decide that it was hers.

"Thanks," she said. "I forgot it, didn't I?"

Bruce stood leaning against the frame of the hall and nodded. He didn't seem to detect the lie in her voice and she was glad because there was no way that she would tell him she left it there on purpose.

"I have to warn you," Cienna said and quietly fiddled with the loop on the top of her backpack. "I'm a little short on money right now…"

"Can you cook?" Bruce asked. Cienna looked up and nodded slowly.

"Well enough. I'm not a gourmet chef or anything like that," she responded.

"Good," Bruce smiled. "You can be my cook. No rent needed."

"That's it?" she asked with surprise. Bruce paused and reconsidered for a moment.

"And you'll have to help me clean because I have no idea how long it's been since this place received some TLC."

Cienna raised an eyebrow and suddenly she wasn't sure she wanted to be sitting on that bed anymore. "How long have you been here exactly?"

"Only about a week. I'm renting this place from a friend."

Cienna nodded and breathed a small sigh of relief. If Banner was the one who hadn't been cleaning she had no idea what exactly she would do because then it would mean that she would practically become a house wife. She didn't want to go there.

"You do realize that you're going to have to buy food if I'm going to cook, right?" Cienna asked. Bruce nodded reluctantly; he hated grocery shopping. That was the entire reason the cabinets were bare. Cienna seemed to notice his expression because she smiled. "If you wait for me to take a quick nap I'll go with you."

Bruce looked at her with surprise and nodded gratefully; he had stayed up all night taking care of her after all, and he was exhausted. That was certainly a change in Cienna's attitude from earlier. He stood there for a moment before he realized that Cienna was staring at him intensely.

"I'm not going to fall asleep if you're standing there watching me," she said dryly.

Bruce blinked and had a real hard time fighting back the blush that crept across his face.

"Wha- no, that's not what…" Bruce stuttered and then coughed nervously. "I'm just going to… yeah. Have a nice nap," he said and hastily disappeared back into the hall.

Cienna rolled her eyes; why did the male species always get so flustered about things like that? Not that it mattered; he seemed to respect her privacy and that was good. She sighed as she placed herself back under the covers and closed her eyes.

Perhaps meeting the doctor wasn't such a bad thing after all. She didn't have to pay rent and she was pretty sure she wouldn't have to be worried about him kicking her out because his heart was just too big for that.

And hopefully she would soon save up enough money for a third pair of clothes that she could take around with her… Her eyes flew open at this thought and she removed the sheet quickly to look down at the spot she had been hit with the arrow and she cursed. Her white shirt was torn and doused in blood; that was her favorite shirt to wear! She hated her life. Truly, she did.

She collapsed on the pillow behind her and forced herself to close her eyes. Was it possible for things to get much worse?

* * *

_Don't shoot me. I didn't say it on the last chapter but I went on a week long vacation so that's why I haven't posted in a week... Anyways, extra long chapter to say sorry. :) Please review~~~  
_

_-KC_


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Give me one reason I shouldn't handcuff you to your own damn bed," an icy voice growled at him.

Tony froze as he walked into one of his personal floors from the elevator on his tower. Natasha was sitting on the black leather couch of the large living room area with her legs crossed and a cup of coffee in her hands. In front of her on the glass coffee table was a device Tony recognized as the comm. system connecting them to Clint, and she also had a conveniently-set gun next to that. That woman could make even drinking coffee look deadly; scared the shit out of Tony. Though he would never admit it.

He smiled and replied suggestively, "Didn't know you were into the kinky stuff, Romanoff."

Natasha just stared at him. Tony really didn't know whether it was worse to be around her when she was visibly angry or hiding her emotions behind a deadpan. He rolled his eyes and walked to the back of the room where a bar was stationed.

"Calm down, Barbie, I just needed to give Cienna something," he explained dismissively.

Natasha momentarily clenched her teeth at the Barbie comment before she put down her coffee and stood to face the billionaire.

"Without telling anyone," she pointed out. Tony shrugged as he grabbed a shot glass and a bottle of scotch.

"I thought I was the one calling the shots," he countered as he filled the glass with the alcohol. Why did Natasha ever think it was a good idea to grant him the permission to do that?

"Not when you leave us in the dark you don't," she snapped. "What was it that you gave Bruce?"

"A phone," Tony answered honestly before throwing back the shot. Natasha raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms.

"You risked blowing our cover over a simple phone?" she demanded.

Tony snorted. "On the contrary, Legolas was perfectly hidden and Cienna has no idea that I know you."

"Bruce does," she growled and gave Tony an unblinking stare.

"Well, he's under the impression that I hate you," Tony replied and returned the stare without flinching.

"What was on the phone?" she tried.

"Cienna's empty contact list," Tony avoided the question expertly.

"_Tony_."

"Yes?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Plenty of things. What about you?"

"Why did you decide to waltz up to a criminal's door, unarmed, just to give her back the phone that she probably stole in the first place?"

"Actually, that was her phone. Checked with her Grandfather."

Tony could have sworn that Natasha had a vein pop in her head with the way that she was trying to shoot him dead with her eyes. He smiled and that probably didn't help the situation, but he didn't care.

"I just set a playing piece on the field," he answered cryptically. Natasha raised an eyebrow expectantly and Tony, reluctantly, continued. "You might have Clint watching Cienna from afar, but I have a hunch that if she really wanted to, she could disappear right from under your nose without a trace and we'd be right back to square one."

"How do you figure that?"

Tony paused a moment.

"Clint, you there?" he asked without taking eyes off of Natasha.

"Yep," came the short reply from the device

"Good. I'll need you to hear this as well," he replied and set the shot glass down on the counter next to the bottle of scotch. He walked around the bar and sat down in an armchair next to the couch. Natasha sat down as well and waited patiently.

"I have a feeling," Tony began once he was situated with his elbows on his knees and his hands folded in front of him, "that Cienna isn't just a normal woman in her early thirties. I don't know if you've noticed or anything, but the way she moves with her plans and the way she talks suggests that somewhere behind her anger at the world there is a genius. If she really wants to, all she has to accomplish to disappear is a little brainstorming. We're not just going up against some blind buffoon who can't see two feet in front of herself; she very truly has enough brain power to take down more than just S.H.I.E.L.D. She could demolish whole countries if she tried."

"Wait," Clint interrupted, "I thought that it doesn't matter how smart your enemies are because you're smarter?"

Tony could have sworn that the archer was mocking him. Maybe it was only because of what he was about to admit next.

"Honestly…" he hesitated a moment. "...I think if we were going to go against each other in intelligence…" Tony stopped and had a really hard time completing his sentence. He did, though. Eventually. "She'd probably leave me in the dust."

Both Natasha and Clint remained silent for a long time.

"Well, shit," Clint finally said. "How are we supposed to get a leash on her?"

"You can't," Tony snorted. "Not any more than you can on me."

Natasha looked down at the comm. system with a quirked eyebrow.

"So what do you think about not bringing her in now?" she asked. If Cienna was truly as brilliant as Tony said, then leaving her to her own devices wouldn't be very logical if there was still a chance that she could be trying to either harm S.H.I.E.L.D. or do something that had the potential of injuring innocent people.

"I still refuse," Clint said immediately.

"When did we decide that we're not bringing her in?" Tony asked before Natasha could even think about saying anything.

"When you were busy blowing our cover," Clint said bluntly.

Tony gave an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes. "I already told Barbie over here that I effectively did _not _blow our cover. As a matter of fact, you were connected when I told her about it, so don't even try."

"We need a plan," Natasha said quickly before the conversation could stray too far.

"I thought I told you that I already had one," Tony practically whined with irritation. Were peopl just ignoring him collectively to bother him? Because it was working. Natasha just looked at him.

"You said you planted a piece on the playing field or whatever, yes, but _we _don't know what you're thinking."

Tony leaned back in the arm chair with his hands folded behind his head. "All you had to do was ask, Barbie."

"Enough with the Barbie nonsense," Natasha hissed. "Just give us the plan you have."

"Say please."

"Oh, come on, Tony," Clint said before Natasha could blow a fuse. Tony gave the Black  
Widow a smug smile before he spoke.

"Well, all right then," he said with a sudden seriousness as he leaned forward again. "There is a valid reason that I gave Cienna the phone. I could be mistaken, but from what it seemed when she gave me the phone in the first place she wanted something from me. At first I had no idea what it could be that she wanted, but yesterday with what happened with you two while I was talking to her grandfather it sort of dawned on me. You said there was someone that she was extremely mad at and I took the liberty of going back to the footage on the news earlier to see if I could find out his identity.

"As it turns out, the man she was attacking is an extremely well-known mafia man and has crazy resources. He often bragged to other criminals that his biggest customer was none other than "Blitzen", so I assume she attacked him because of his big mouth. She's very secretive and probably didn't like being blabbed about. I'm not entirely certain this is the case, but it doesn't really matter.

"If Cienna was using him for resources and she just cut him out of her contact list then it could be very possible that she needs more resources. If she is trying to gather important information that only big name agencies have then it would be ideal for her to contact me because it is well known that I don't exactly agree with people who try to make themselves my boss, which is honestly what all agencies try to do."

"So you gave her a phone?" Clint asked, more than a little uncertain. Tony could imagine the agent looking at him with a raised eyebrow as though he were stupid.

"Not just _a _phone," Tony corrected, "_her _phone. It's sort of an act of… truce, I suppose the word would be. Now that she knows I'm not going to tie her up and turn her in she might be a little more open on what she's doing and why exactly she needs me."

"This is all going off your presumption that she even needs you in the first place," Natasha pointed out doubtfully. Tony huffed.

"When have I ever been wrong before?" he asked arrogantly.

"Do you need me to call Pepper and ask her to count?"

Tony pointed his finger and opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and closed his finger into a loose fist before he answered, "Alright, I admit sometimes I'm wrong, but it takes a genius to know a genius, right? If I were her I would want an extremely smart and good-looking billionaire who dislikes all agencies and couldn't care less if one of them were destroyed on my side. Don't you think?"

Natasha paused. He had a point, but this was still all very risky. She would rather just show up on Blitzen's doorstep and bring her in before she got the chance to gain any more information, but neither Clint nor Tony would allow that quietly and that was more trouble than she wanted to deal with. Finally, she nodded.

"Fine, Tony. Since you're so bent on doing this your way, we'll do it. But first you have to tell us every part of your plan in _very _explicit detail. And that's assuming your plan is even a good one."

Tony leaned back in his chair and replaced his hands to where they were earlier behind his head. "Oh, Natasha, why are you always so doubtful?" he asked with what _might _have been a psychotic smile. "This plan will be foolproof," he promised.

* * *

"Prego," Cienna growled.

"But Ragu is better," Bruce replied with exasperation. Cienna folded her arms and glared at him.

"Prego."

Finally, Bruce rolled his eyes and exchanged the Ragu with the Prego on the shelf of tomato sauce and placed it into the nearly overflowing basket he was pushing around. The two were currently in a large warehouse of Costco goods. They had been arguing for practically every type of food item they came across, but for some reason it was Cienna who always won, even though Bruce was the one paying for it all.

By the time they finally made it out of the store, it was somewhere around five or six at night; they had both slept until about two-thirty in the afternoon and then Bruce had to wait for Cienna to take a shower to get rid of the blood that had still been on the area of her wound. She threw the shirt she had been wearing out and replaced it with an identical but black one, and Bruce couldn't help but ask if those were the only clothes she had. After all, she only had that one extremely small Jansport backpack that couldn't have fit much more in it. She apparently didn't find it a friendly question because she practically exploded his head with her fury vision, as he liked to call it. If there was one thing she was good at, it was glaring at someone until they broke down and gave in or crawled away to hide in a corner.

That was pretty much why she had continued to win with the choices of food types. The only thing they had actually agreed upon was LuckyCharms cereal, and even then she only consented because she didn't actually want to cook breakfast for him every day.

"That took way longer than it should have," Cienna pointed out as Bruce got in the driver's seat after emptying the cart of its contents into the trunk. Bruce paused in the middle of putting his seat belt on.

"Me getting rid of the cart just now or this whole trip in general?" he asked carefully.

"This whole trip," Cienna replied as though it were obvious. It really was. Bruce shrugged as he finished clicking the seatbelt and turned the car on. The car was a simple blue Toyota Prius. It wasn't new and happening, but it was about the cheapest rental he could find. He hadn't been planning on staying too long in the city, after all.

"And whose fault is that?" he asked while pulling out of the parking space he was in carefully. Cienna looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm the one cooking, so I do believe I should be the one to decide what I cook with. Is that unfair?"

"Well, I am the one paying for everything," he pointed out. He righted the car and drove toward the parking lot exit.

"Hey, you're a doc, you should understand that what the cook in the kitchen says goes, right? Just like what the doc says in his hospital goes."

He glanced at Cienna with a small smirk as he pulled to a stop at the exit of the lot. For some reason, whatever her logic happened to be, he was amused to hear the reasons behind what she said and did. Cienna caught his glance and narrowed her eyes.

"What?" she demanded in an accusative tone. Bruce simply shook his head and returned his gaze to the road to check for approaching cars. After a moment Cienna dropped it; it probably wasn't important anyway. Neither of them said anything for a good few minutes and then the only thing that interrupted the silence was a high-pitched bleep from Cienna's phone. She glanced down at its position in one of the cup holders up front and raised an eyebrow; that sound was set for texts.

There was only one person with her number and he barely knew how to use the home phone in his retirement home let alone how to text her. She hesitated for a moment before she picked it up and unlocked her phone to read it.

_Hey, Buttercup! How's it going?_

Cienna's confusion immediately turned into a scowl. Great, so on top of Tony finding out where she was so easily he had also seen it fit to jot down her number. After a moment she realized that his name was already in her contacts with a smiley face next to it. She glared at her phone as though Tony could see it and locked the phone with annoyance.

She wasn't so irritated at the fact that he was contacting her but rather that he was still calling her that demeaning nickname _and _he was trying to annoy her into talking to him. She still had some things to prepare before she decided whether or not to seek his help but he seemed privy on just intruding in her business nonetheless. That was at least what she figured he was doing, anyway. He was a curious man who wanted to know why exactly she had him go on a wild goose chase for no apparent reason whatsoever.

Bruce was continuously glancing at Cienna with a questioning gaze as he drove. It took a few minutes before he finally voiced his thoughts.

"Something wrong?" he asked. There he goes prying into Cienna's business again. Why wasn't she getting angry at him?

"Sort of," she replied, unsure. "…Not really."

Bruce didn't seem to believe her but he didn't say anything else. They were just arriving at the apartment, anyways. He pulled up next to the door, thankfully no one had taken the spot, and they both began unloading the groceries. By the time that was done, Cienna had gotten yet another text from Tony. She rolled her eyes when she realized this but checked her phone anyways.

_C'mon, Buttercup... I know you're there._

Cienna simply threw her phone onto the bed and began to help Bruce put away the groceries in the kitchen. She was the first to break the silence in between them.

"I'm going to be away for most of the day tomorrow," she informed as she put some vegetables away. "I have some business that I need to take care of."

Bruce didn't seem to mind her distinct avoidance of saying what she was actually doing. Or rather, he didn't show it. She would be worried if he wasn't secretly questioning her.

"Alright," he said casually and searched through one of the bags for something that could be put away. "Guess I'll be on my own for lunch."

"You'll be on your own for lunch everyday," Cienna scoffed. "You can perfectly well make a sandwich if you set your mind to it."

Bruce smiled sheepishly as he opened the fridge to place the milk on the top shelf.

"I don't think even that's possible," he admitted. Cienna stared at him with disbelief.

"Are you some sort of undercover, spoiled, rich brat that can't do anything for himself? Please say no."

Bruce laughed. "No, trust me, I'm not rich." He frowned. "I'm not a brat either."

"Coulda fooled me," Cienna said jokingly under her breath as she turned to find something else to put away. Bruce smiled for a brief moment; she was opening up a little. That was the first intentional joke he'd heard her say.

"No," Bruce reassured, "I'm not spoiled nor do I have mountains of money. As I already said, I'm a scientist. I get caught up in my work a lot."

Cienna disappeared into the pantry for a few seconds and when she returned she said, "So in other words you're a workaholic and I'm going to need to wait on you hand and foot."

Banner raised both his eyebrows in surprise and replied incredulously, "I wouldn't take it quite that far. I can take a shower on my own and I don't need you to help me change clothes."

This actually rewarded him a laugh. Short as it was, it sounded like music to him. And it sort of reminded him of… Betty. He hadn't seen her in such a long time.

"That doesn't mean that you aren't going to need me to check on you every few hours to make sure you didn't drop dead," Cienna said.

"Believe me, I wouldn't die so easily," Bruce reassured.

Cienna paused mid-reach as she was putting the box of LuckyCharms on the topmost shelf of the pantry to look at the scientist. She studied him and her brow furrowed ever so slightly as she finished putting the box in its place. The way he said that… It made her think he was either hiding something, or that it was some inside joke he had with himself. It gave her a weird feeling that she couldn't describe.

Before he saw her scrutinizing him she let the muscles in her face relax into a small smile.

"We'll see, won't we?" she asked. Banner huffed and finished putting away the last of the groceries. He gathered up the plastic bags and by the time he threw them away, Cienna had already turned the stove on to heat up a pot for cooking dinner. He peered over her shoulder at the ingredients laid out on the counter.

"What's the grub?" he asked curiously. He already guessed since the Prego and some noodles were sitting out, but he figured he might as well try to get Cienna to open up as much as possible, and that meant being friendly. Also, he was used to being alone most of the time. He enjoyed the company she provided though sometimes she could be a little snappy.

"You can guess," Cienna replied with a look at him over her shoulder. He smiled and opened the fridge to grab some hamburger meat and held it up.

"Spaghetti," he replied shortly. Cienna nodded and smiled her thanks as she grabbed the meat and began searching through the drawers for what was probably a sharp knife to cut it with. Bruce walked over to one of the drawers and removed one such knife from its depths. He held it out to her and she took it graciously.

"Thanks," she said and cut the plastic of the container so that she could begin to chop up the meat.

Bruce smiled though he knew she couldn't see him, and then made his way quietly to his room. Something had been bothering him ever since their conversation when she woke up, but he had been too exhausted to do anything about it. Now that he had the time he figured it would be best for him to check on it.

Cienna had said Walter died, but that didn't really make sense. Bruce had received a message while he was helping an old man in India. The message was from an anonymous source; it had just spontaneously shown up one day on the door step of the house he had been staying at. It took him a while to find the time to read what he had been given, but when he did he flew out of the country and back to New York as soon as he possibly could.

Once he entered his room, his eyes traveled across its surface. The room had a mini hall before it opened up; the cause of it was a closet that was built into the side of the room. The left wall extended straight from the doorway, whereas the right wall was at the end of the long closet. The room wasn't large, but it wasn't the tiniest he'd been in.

On the left wall stood his cluttered work space that included a run-down but still functional laptop. There were papers and files scattered across the surface of the desk and he wondered for a brief moment how exactly he'd let the place get so out of hand when he had only arrived a week ago. At the very least, his floor wasn't completely covered up and his bed, pushed against the right wall, didn't have anything on it that would prevent him from being able to lay down at night.

Once his eyes had rested on what he was looking for, he walked over to where it was tucked beneath his mattress and grabbed it before he sat down. The piece of paper was weathered and brown, and it was folded twice, splitting it up into three even halves. He unfolded it gently, though he didn't know why he felt the need to handle it so carefully. Perhaps it was simply because of how thin and fragile the paper felt beneath his fingers.

The ink on the page was handwritten rather than typed; that was how he knew the message wasn't forged or faked by anyone. He couldn't say he remembered Walter's handwriting exactly, but his signature was not one he often forgot. Silently, his eyes traveled over the inked words.

_Dear Bruce,_

_The fact that you are reading this means that you have progressed as I thought you would and your name is known as a scientist to many. I applaud you, and my heart swells with pride at the man you've become, though I might not be at your side. Aside from that, I'm sorry to say that your receiving this letter is not something meant for good tidings._

_I am probably in trouble and I may be in too much trouble for you to help, but I feel that I must send this message to you anyway. My actions have not been very honorable as of late and I'm afraid that I have done something terrible. I cannot tell you what exactly it is since this paper may fall into the wrong hands, but I can tell you this: the research I am conducting is very desperate. I'm not sure if it's going to work, but I have to continue to try. I believe that you are the only one who can complete this research._

_Please make haste, but do not come if your work renders you unable. I ask you this favor not as a fellow scientist, but as your past friend. My daughter's fate could very well depend on it._

_Sincerely,_

_ Professor Kavanagh_

Bruce's brow furrowed once he finished the short letter. Walter had sounded so desperate, but at the same time he said that he _probably _was in trouble. What was that supposed to mean? Had he given it to someone for safekeeping until it actually needed to be sent?

A knock on the front door caused Bruce's head to snap up. Used to living alone, he stood to open it, but a call from Cienna had him sinking back onto his mattress.

"I'll get it," Cienna yelled from the kitchen. Bruce took the chance to look back down at the letter. The letter that was at least _sixteen years old. _That meant Walter wrote it sometime around when Bruce was just out of college and... well, conducting his experiments with gamma radiation. That was beside the point, though. If Walter had passed away so long ago then why had the letter still reached him?

A loud crash from the kitchen area caught his attention and he was on his feet in seconds. He jogged out of his room, having left the letter on his bed, and slid to a halt at the end of the hallway. In front of him was certainly a scene that he never thought he'd see in his entire life.

Cienna had a firm grip on a man's arm that was twisted behind his back. Her other arm was pushing his chest into the wall so that he couldn't try to do anything stupid. That wasn't too surprising, however. Bruce always assumed Cienna would be one of those protect-yourself kind of people. No, what really caught him off-guard was that the man she had pinned to the wall next to the door was none other than Tony Stark.

"A little help?" Tony wheezed. Goodness, what had that man done to get on Cienna's bad side?

Bruce took a few steps forward cautiously.

"Cienna," he said gently but firmly, "let him go."

"Give me one reason I should," she growled. Bruce got the impression that it was Tony she was telling that to and not him. He answered anyway.

"I know he doesn't come off as someone you want to hang around with at first, but he's really not that bad of a guy."

"Yeah," Tony managed, "I'm really not."

Tony winced as Cienna put more pressure on his twisted arm. Bruce walked forward again and stopped at arm's length. From there he was able to look into Cienna's eyes to hopefully pull her out of that angry trance she had placed herself into. He was stunned to find that her eyes had changed from their normal soft brown color to what looked like a dark blue with yellow surrounding their pupils. That was yet another thing he would have to ask her about, but it probably wasn't the right time.

Tentatively, he reached his hand out and rested it on her shoulder. Her eyes, quite surprisingly, moved away from glaring at Tony to look at Bruce with what seemed to him like the permission to speak.

"Cienna," he tried again, "this is probably a misunderstanding. We won't find out until you let him go, though."

It truly felt weird to be talking to her like a child, but for some reason it seemed as though some sort of child-like trance had overcome her for a moment. That moment was short however, since her eyes then sharpened into an irritated glare.

"I'm not five, Bruce," she snapped.

"I know," he said and hastily let his hand fall from her shoulder. "So stop acting like it and let him go."

Cienna didn't take her eyes away from Bruce's as her grip tightened on Tony's arm. Bruce prepared himself to try to talk to her again, but suddenly she had let go of her prisoner and the front door was closed when it had previously been left open haphazardly.

Tony stepped away from the wall and rolled out his neck and arm with a wince.

"You really have yourself a winner there," he said with heavy sarcasm. Seconds later, a sharp knife was embedded in the wall right next to his head and he paled. "Yep, grand prize," he mumbled under his breath. Thankfully, Cienna didn't hear that one.

Bruce took a deep breath in and let it out as he pinched the bridge of his nose. This was probably going to be a really long night, and it certainly would have Cienna's walls built up tougher than they had been the first time Tony had come over. That rendered Bruce helpless as Cienna's attitude moved right back to square one.

* * *

_This chapter was a loooong time coming guys, sorry about that. I had a case of major writer's block and it KILLED me; I'm literally writing this as a zombie. XD Well, anywho, I hope you enjoyed. Please review to tell me how I did! :3_

_-KC_


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